


You and Mr. Barnes

by takethethirdoption



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 43,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2683079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethethirdoption/pseuds/takethethirdoption
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.<br/>Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Gettin' Things Started

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like slow-burners because Bucky doesn't show up til chapter three. You're in it for the long haul.

You hadn't applied to the job so much as had been visited by men in suits who told you that you were in high consideration for a post as a personal physician to a certain government branch that you had never heard of.  
Why you, though? True you weren't a storied veteran of your field, but you had been at the top of your class and seemed to have a gift for medicine, both in an office setting and in emergencies. You had started college at sixteen, earned your bachelor's at nineteen, and had gotten your MD at twenty-three. You had finished your residency rather recently and had dived into practice, where you excelled. At least that's what your superiors told you when making correct diagnoses one after the other. Indeed you were a doctor of internal medicine - with a good bedside manner, to boot. In fact, that seemed to be the only good quality that you could conjure up of yourself. You were nice. You didn't find yourself to be particularly pretty, you knew yourself to not be particularly witty, you weren't gifted with a good over-the-phone voice, but you were confident that you were on-point as a doctor. Then again, in a workplace surrounded by better doctors, being “smart” wasn't necessarily something to write home about. In short, you were a nice doctor, but nothing else to spark an interest terms of a background. Clean records, good credit rating, and zero affluence in terms of politics.  
Perhaps that last one is why those men in suits offered to escort you to the center of D.C. for an immediate interview. Of course you declined. Again, you weren't stupid. There was no way that you were going to leave the hospital that particular day or week or month. Simply put, there was too much work to be done. The New York incident was very recent, a few weeks prior to this meeting. The overflow of patients from out of state created a large work schedule. You had pulled double shifts since day one of the attack, trying to get patients in and out of the hospital, and you might have killed someone if you had to do one more EMT trip in an ambulance. The two bald men did not seem to care that you had large bags under your eyes and you simply could not take an interview for a new job. 

“So I'm afraid I cannot accept the position. Now if you two will excuse me, I have four patients that I need to tend to before I go home.” You gave a small nod before turning around, only to be stopped by a hand on the shoulder.  
“Miss, we suggest you reconsider.” Was that a tone of desperation? You figured you had a certain upper hand in this moment and you used it to your advantage.  
“Why? I don't do government work. You all have the best healthcare and doctors in the world! Why get my help?”  
“Because your patient is particularly... picky when it comes to his doctors. The last few have quit or had to leave.”  
“Had to leave?”  
“Err... workplace hazards. It's espionage.”  
That got your interest. Spy movies were always your favorite, and images of James Bond and George Smiley popped into your head. Still, they hadn't answered your question quite to your liking.  
“Why me, though? Me in particular.” You weren't built for the spy life. You weren't fit, you didn't speak a billion languages, and you sure as hell weren't suave. Maybe these so-called government workers just sucked at their job.  
“According to your superiors, your credentials are a good match for your future patient.” Okay, maybe not. “He needs a gentler touch, we believe,” the one said.  
“A feminine touch,” the other added.  
“Wow, that's kind of sexist,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your chin. “I don't have a day off for another two weeks, though. You saw what happened in New York! We've had patients flown in ever since those alien things came down.”  
“Just a minute, miss.” One of the bald men took a few steps down the corridor and spoke through a transmitter. You looked over the other man's shoulder to try to get a glimpse. It really was something straight out of a spy movie! Maybe these two men were spies themselves, infiltrating hospital records to get information on you, a lowly doctor of internal medicine, for a secret job patching up an agent for missions. You thought that such a job would really be something a surgeon would do considering the wounds one could get from a mission gone wrong. Anyone could do patchwork though, but bullet holes and poison were entirely different fields. Broken bones you could splint, but maybe with the right materials you could do more.  
You were so lost in your thoughts of secret meetings abroad and the thrill of a car chase when the other man came back.  
“Your interview is for the Saturday after next at three in the afternoon. There will be a car waiting outside your apartment an hour previous.”  
“How do I know you guys are really on the level anyway?” you asked, tilting your head. It was hard to read people at times, especially two large, imposing men with sunglasses. To your surprise, they handed you a business card.  
“This will connect you with a member of SHIELD. There, you can ask any questions you like. Good day.”

Down the corridor they went, leaving you with a stethoscope around your neck and an utterly bemused look. SHIELD... that called for a Google search.

In the comfort of your apartment, you tried to do some research on whatever SHIELD was. That Edward Snowden had leaked some government files early last year, so some information on this organization was available. Basically it was trying to save the world, one really weird guy in a brightly colored uniform at a time. Not that you were complaining. There were very attractive Avengers members, like that Captain America and Thor. Very handsome indeed. At least Steve Rogers was living in Washington, and you sometimes saw him do small appearances at the pediatrics section of the hospital. You wished you had the courage to thank him for his deeds. Little kids lighting up at the sight of the shield always put a smile on your face. Steve was what you thought every man in the world should be: kind, a leader, a believer in justice, tough, and filled with goodness. One of these days you would go down to the Smithsonian and see the exhibit on the Howlin' Commandos, or whatever they were called.  
But for now you were comforted that this secret government branch actually existed.


	2. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to just make the chapter summary be the story summary and have the notes here have a little bit of what's going on.
> 
> Reader has her interview at SHIELD, though she seems to notice it's more a formality than an actual interview. She doesn't quite know what to make of Brock Rumlow and Alexander Pierce, but they seem nice enough. What makes her curious is what will happen when her job starts.

Saturday dragged to arrive, as all long stretches to a cherished day off often do. You were more than a little irritated that a day to sleep in and laze about was interrupted by a car ride to a scary building filled with men and women in suits. Everyone looked like they needed to be somewhere, except you. You had no idea where you were going, but at least you looked the part, dressed in your Sunday best... on Saturday.  
“This way,” your escort said, gesturing to the lift. He was tanned, had eternal five o'clock shadow, along with some gelled up hair. Certainly no spy or action hero, you thought, but he wasn't dressed like some regular Joe at the office. Brock was his name, and he seemed affable to you. That was a comfort.  
Once inside, you looked outside onto the terrace as the man next to you said, “Level 50. Rumlow, Brock, security clearance 9.”  
“Security clearance of guest not high enough,” a cool female voice replied.  
“Override. Rumlow, Brock.”  
“Approved.”

You jumped as the elevator zipped up. Your ears popped due to the pressure difference and you started to go numb with anxiety. So many thoughts started swimming through your mind. Granted being a doctor meant having nerves of steel and being self-assured, you started to feel sweat build up under your armpits. It definitely showed on your face - all your nerves and apprehension - because Brock nudged your arm and gave you a smile.

“Hey, why so nervous?”  
“I've never been in a place like this.”  
“This?” He gestured around. “This place isn't so bad. Besides, I've read your dossier. You need some excitement in your life.”  
“I have a dossier?” You must have looked very perturbed because Brock then tried his best to back pedal. “Since when?”  
“Since three months ago. Everyone we think to bring aboard SHIELD gets a dossier created. You should be honored.”  
“Despite having a snooze-worthy life?”  
“Exactly!” Brock laughed and clapped you on the back. You gave a weak chuckle before inwardly groaning at the pain. He was stronger than he looked. Maybe he was a spy after all.  
While you were getting checked to go into the main office of the head of SHIELD, you assessed your current situation. A dossier was created three months ago, or so Brock had said offhandedly. That meant that SHIELD had been interested in you for perhaps a month prior, you figured. You racked your brain again to figure out just what had impressed them about you, and still could pull up nothing. You were the NPC in the life of a protagonist, providing a healing station and unsubstantial dialogue. If someone could mash the B button to speed up your dialogue, you were sure that that someone would.  
“All right, go ahead through,” Brock said, gesturing toward the cushy office. You nodded and proceeded, inwardly gasping at the sheer size of your interview room.

Ceiling-high windows, very expensive furniture, mahogany desks, touch screen walls... and did I mention how everything looked very expensive? You felt like you were wasting time and money just standing in the room, which at your best guess had more square-footage than most apartments in D.C. 

“Ah, well if it isn't the good doctor!” An older white man, who looked to be in his late sixties, walked over to you, hand extended. He reminded you of your grandfather if he was still alive. “I'm Alexander Pierce, head of SHIELD. It's an honor to finally make your acquaintance.”  
“From what I hear, it's a privilege to meet you,” you managed to say after a moment's hesitation. You saw another SHIELD operative on the news: Nick Fury. He looked like the head of a spy organization. This man in front of you, with crinkled eyes when he laughed at your quip, looked more like presidential material than anything. “Sir, Mr. Pierce.”  
“Please, call me Pierce. It's what everyone calls me.”  
“Yes, sir.” You introduced yourself formally and took a seat on the opposite end of the desk at Pierce's offer. “Thank you for the opportunity, first of all.” All those interview tips your father gave you when you were starting out in the work force came back to you. Smile, be polite, don't go overboard with cleverness, list your good points, disguise your bad ones.  
“You must know,” Pierce started, “that to make it to this level, you are already highly considered for this job. I'm not going to lie, it's going to be very difficult. What sort of challenges have you faced?”  
“Well, I would say the biggest challenge was paying for medical school. I'm still not quite finished. Financing those four years was difficult because my mother passed during. That's why I switched my major and went into medicine.”  
You explained that your mother died due to a misdiagnosis, but the doctors were incredible when it came down to the wire, but ultimately failed. So you went into internal medicine, hoping that when you were in the position of the doctors, that mistake wouldn't be on you. And so far, that had been the way it went. You also had experience in emergency services and could do a quick patch-up, but nothing like a surgeon. In fact, the only reason you had experience in EMT was the overabundance of patients from the New York attack. You kept silently wondering why a professional-grade surgeon wasn't in your shoes at that moment. Maybe since this patient was uncooperative with some doctors, being unconscious during surgery meant that those doctors didn't matter so much.  
“So why take us up on our offer?” Pierce asked, leaning back in his seat.  
You shrugged and mimicked his action. “Intrigue? Less work?”  
He chuckled again. “You remind me of someone... that's a good thing, don't worry. I'll agree on intrigue, but as for work, you might be surprised. According to your superiors, you have a good head on your shoulders, very calm. You'll need that for not only your main patient, but also his tactical team. They are the best of the best, but you still might need to stop hemorrhaging every now and again.”  
“Easy enough.”  
“Glad to hear it.”

You rattled off some qualifications and played off your nerves of steel. The whole conversation seemed to go around in circles because... well, because you already were confident you had the job since you walked in the building, and Pierce seemed more relieved that you took it than anything and hammered in questions of making sure you knew what the job meant. 

Was this a job or a burden?

You were going to find out in two weeks' time.


	3. Meeting The Winter Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. We meet the Winter Soldier.

You supposed that, in a manner of speaking, you were going into a private practice and told your friends as much. There was a confidentiality agreement in your contract, but you had to tell your bosses something, as well as your coworkers. To be fair, you weren't wrong in saying you were going into a private practice where only a few select patients would ever visit, but it all seemed so sinister to you when you were heading down to your new office. Your “office”, as it were, was not an office at all. It was located inside a bank vault. From the looks of things, it used to be a bank vault. Perhaps SHIELD thought that a bank was secure, which made sense. After all, no one really performed bank robberies anymore.  
With your new pass in hand, you scanned your way through several doors until you arrived at a stripped-down vault. Wires were running from every doorway. It could have been so quiet down here inside these thick concrete walls, but there was a continuous electrical hum in your ear. If Dr. Frankenstein had a laboratory in the twenty-first century, you were sure that this would be a prime location. With the metal bars and low ceiling, you were reminded of a prison cell. Little did you know that this was closer to a torture chamber for your main patient.  
You heard your name, and you turned to a nebbish man with a thick file in his hands.  
“Here is the case file on him.” He thrust it into your hands, and prompted you to open it. “Do not call him by name. That is for your benefit, not his.”  
“Why can't I call him by his name? James Buch-”  
“No,” he interrupted firmly. “It is protocol that he not be given his name. We keep firm control on the Winter Soldier.”  
You sighed and acquiesced before continuing to pore over his file. James “Bucky” Buchanan. Born 1917. Served in World War II. Member of the Howling Commandos. Best friend to Steve “Captain America” Rogers. Keep prior information from Barnes. Presumed deceased by historical records. Kept in cryo, outside of missions. Arm needs constant upkeep and health should be constantly monitored. Prone to outbursts.  
Your brow furrowed. Granted you knew that the man in front of you wouldn't give you answers. He wouldn't even let you use Bucky's name. You remembered details about Captain America's life, and how he had woken up from some deep icicle sleep just in time to save New York from an alien invasion. It was all over every internet story you could find. Did the Captain know his friend was alive and breathing? Did he know that he was working for the government too? If he was being woken up from cryo for “missions”, then it stood to reason that Bucky, despite having executed mission after mission since the 40s, was probably still a young man. The whole thing stunk to the high heavens.  
You felt a rock drop into your stomach. You were optimistic and often believed the best in people, but you didn't believe yourself to be naive. There wasn't anything that felt right or good about your job. You were aiding and abetting the government, your government, into keeping a man trapped in a sick game of manipulation. But there was no backing out now. You swallowed the lump in your throat and watched as your nebbish coworker shuffled out of the room. Replacing him at the doorway were two heavily armed guards. Your guards? You supposed so, and the lightly delivered warning of “prone to outbursts” flashed in your head.  
Come on, you were a doctor! Nerves of steel! Even if you weren't sure you agreed with what was going on, you did sign a contract and you were vaguely sure that SHIELD wouldn't enjoy a whistleblower or even the possibility of one. It's not like the government hadn't staged “accidents” before, so you were stuck. The least you could do was provide Bucky with a bit of comfort. These men had missions of their own, and you assigned yourself one.  
Speaking of Mr. Barnes, your patient stepped out of a backroom. Your eyebrows shot up at the sight. About him being a young man? You were spot on. He couldn't have been more than thirty by the looks of him. Your gaze latched on to his metal arm, shining even in the relatively dim room. The metal appendage went all the way up to what looked like a severely scarred shoulder. You made a mental note to take a good examination of that, but perhaps you didn't have to. This Bucky Barnes... he looked to be in perfect health. You weren't one to gush on details, but his physique would keep you up at night many weeks after this first encounter. Perhaps it would be best to go into more intimate details later, lest the stare you gave put off your patient. Hopefully he didn't notice.  
Nothing, however, escaped the Winter Soldier. He didn't say anything to you while you walked over holding a thick medical file, and his gaze never left you. You looked like a civilian, not the usual kind of folk that he dealt with. If it wasn't for that particular file, there had already been posits as to who you were and what your purpose was. You weren't crying or pissing yourself, so interrogation was perhaps out of the question. There was no point to killing you anyway, at least by his own hands; you hadn't attacked him and he hadn't been given mission specs spelling you out as a target.  
So you were his new doctor? Fair enough. He supposed it was time for a new one. His mind did absorb the fact that you were rather pretty, something you wouldn't learn until much later, but that didn't manifest itself into anything but a side note at the moment. There was a bit of detail he was given since his last thaw. According to Pierce, he had been woken up from cryo to coincide with the beginning of SHIELD's Project Insight. With a new age of global protection arising, his skill set was needed 24/7 to assure everything went according to plan. Bumping off possible threats was implied.  
He did not return your smile (a genuine one, he thought and puzzled over), as you began. You introduced yourself and explained that you were a personal physician to him and his tactical team.  
“They said I have to do your physicals since you woke up from cryo. It won't take long, in case you were wondering. We can begin if you're ready?”  
You watched Bucky carefully, and wondered if you were using the right tone. He didn't react immediately, so perhaps you needed to use a bit more force. Before you opened your mouth, Bucky made determined steps to a nearby chair. You weren't sure that you would be using all the medical equipment surrounding it, especially the technology that looked like Stark-ish. If only you had followed the biomedical engineer path like your father wanted. Oh well, in your case, you could only do so much.  
You pulled up a wheeled stool and scooted yourself over to your patient. He was tense, and instead of keeping his eye on you as what you thought was his habit of a man in espionage, he gave off a thousand-yard stare. Was he scared of doctors? Many of whom you thought were the bravest men in the world often had their nerves frayed in your office. Your patient was still human, after all, and you put a hand on his back, hand half on metal and half on flesh, as a show of empathy. A flinch confirmed your thoughts.  
“Are you okay? We don't have to do your physical now if you're not up for it.”  
That got his attention back on you. What a beautiful color his eyes were, the clearest of blue. If only they had a bit of warmth in them. You tilted your head slightly as Bucky shook his head at the suggestion. The real reason for his standoffish behavior was one of innocence. No one, in Bucky's memory, had ever shown him kindness, or was empathetic toward what he wanted. It made him suspicious and on edge.  
You smiled when his gaze became fixed on the floor. “Okay, I'm going to start with your heartbeat...”  
You put a hand on his back and put your stethoscope to his chest. Yes, still as human as you thought. Slow and steady, you heard his heart pump on. Moving it across his firm flesh, you asked Bucky to take a deep breath in and hold it. Release it... breathe normally... cough...  
The exam went on as such. Every now and again there was a flinch as you, as gently as you could manage, touched Bucky. It was too intimate for your patient, who couldn't remember the touch of a woman. He followed every one of your instructions in an effort to have the consultation end as quickly as possible. You didn't notice the tension in the same way Bucky did, but you did wish that he would say something to break the monotony of you asking him to breathe or cough.  
You finished up with a few notes in the file.  
“You're as fit as you can be. I would watch out for your blood pressure and scar tissue, but other than that, I'd say you're set for a mission,” you reported. “Thank you for being a good patient, even if you're a bit quiet.”  
Bucky inclined his head ever so slightly and stood.  
You were about to ask yourself what to do when Pierce came into the room seconds later. With a quick glance at Bucky, you saw his jaw set at the sight of the old man. Mission specs? That soon after your work was done?  
“Thank you for your work, Doctor,” Pierce said, shaking your hand. “Did he give you trouble?”  
“No, he was... he was wonderful to work with.”  
At that, Pierce laughed. “I've never heard those words in relation to our soldier before! Don't pamper him too much. He'll get sloppy in the field.”  
You tried to chuckle too, but it didn't seem too funny. It was easier to laugh when a group was, at least in your experience. You managed to smile before packing up your things. Pierce called your name just as you turned to leave, the other members of Bucky's team packing into the bank vault.  
“We'll call you if we need you, but I'll need you to pick up a few things and keep them at your residence until future notice. Have it done within the next month or so.”  
“What kind of things?” You looked at a slip of paper being placed in front of you.  
“It's all there. Good-bye, miss.”  
You were about to ask if this was going to be on the organization's credit, but you declined to ask. After all, they couldn't have been asking you to do much. Instead, you said good-bye to everyone in the room, including Bucky. He merely gazed after you for a few seconds, with another small nod, before returning focus to the team. What you wouldn't have given for a sentence or two. 

On the taxi ride home, you studied the list that Pierce had given you:

_Three men's shirts, short sleeves, size large_  
_Two men's pants, jeans, 32 length_  
_Men's boots, size 11_  
_Stock up on food_  
_\- Alexander Pierce_

Were these for Bucky? They had to be! What in God's name was Bucky going to do at your apartment?! Well... certainly not live with you. Although your mind drifted off to imagine that specimen of man in your bed nightly, that wasn't going to happen. Besides that, you shouldn't really think that. Ethics classes flashed in your mind about not thinking sexual thoughts of patients.  
“Think, you moron, think,” you muttered to yourself as your ride dropped you off. “Let's see... only clothes and plenty of food. Laying low? But he's a world-class spy! He could make it back to base before anyone could find him!”  
You glanced around before heading inside the complex. Families making their way down the walk, a trio of street performers singing old standards, a stray cat stepping gingerly around a chained-up bicycle, and a pair of young people handing out protest flyers. If Bucky was in civilian clothes, wouldn't he be noticed? Then again, some people don't look twice at you, especially if you look like you know where you're going. Bucky seemed to be like that. Still, you were nervous for him. The man seemed trapped with no choice but compliance with Pierce, regardless of the fact that he could easily wipe out a room without breaking a sweat. You were sure of that, dossier and intuition accounted for.  
Walking up the stairwell, you continued to think of your own position in SHIELD. A run-of-the-mill personal physician... where did you matter? You had to be more than a gentle soul, but no other reason arrived in your mind. Much like Bucky, you complied with the situation at hand.  
You breathed a heavy sigh as you made it into your apartment. It wasn't small; a doctor's salary could manage a decent size. But it was lonely, you admitted to yourself. Maybe you should get a cat. 

Before you settled down into your own bed, you added a few things to the list yourself.

_Shaving cream_  
_Good razor_  
_Manly soap_  
_Toothbrush_  
_L and XL shirts, just in case_


	4. Preparing For Your Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader settles in to her life as a private practice doctor and Bucky settles in to the routine of having Reader be his doctor. Perhaps too well. And the splicing to The Winter Soldier takes place in this chapter.

The month and some change following this first meeting was rather repetitive. You went to the bank, did check-ups and screenings, and kept Bucky in a stable mood. It got to the point where, if you were unavailable at a certain time or were late, Bucky would be unresponsive to any other doctor. This did flatter you slightly, but at the same time you were worried that the other SHIELD agents wouldn't take kindly to his stubbornness. Nevertheless, you made sure to head down whenever there was a text on your phone. Brock was your main liaison between yourself and SHIELD. It was his messages that warned you of future missions and whether or not you were needed in the field. Nearly daily you got a message to head down to the bank for a month straight, even if it was just to bandage up the other team members, one of your few non-Bucky related job requirements. 

One of their latest missions was rescuing several SHIELD agents held hostage on their own boat by French mercenaries. Luckily Captain America was on their team instead of Bucky, so the most you had to do for the tactical team was check for trauma and infection from scrapping. Brock was always happy to see you and always had the least amount of injury. You were just sad you didn't get to meet The Captain America, and you did have a niggling feeling that he didn't know any of this was going on, especially the location of the vault. Before leaving the compound, you made sure to see Bucky, just to make sure he was doing okay. He was. He always was, physically anyway. He always managed to look a bit depressed when you had to leave.

You had not received a text to go down to the bank by the next morning after the last successful mission, but instead received a text that Bucky's mission that required the necessary goods was to be held that night. Considering that you procrastinated with the best of them, you hadn't done a damn thing and decided to clean your apartment and head down to the shopping district for Bucky's things right away. Better late than never. If Bucky was indeed going to show up in your home, then the least you could do was make it look presentable. Put away the bras hanging on your bed frame and wipe out your fridge. You found that not having so many guests come over and a lack of pet meant that you had little reason to keep a very orderly home. You don't remember the last time you vacuumed and God forbid you gave the shower a good scouring. Cleaning supplies were sitting in cabinets, waiting to be used outside of a sweep and a counter wipe. Looks like shopping would have to wait.  
After a grueling three hours of Lysol, dusting, scouring, scrubbing, wiping and washing, your apartment looked like it was ready to host the best of the best in Washington D.C. You felt sweaty and disgusting, but the shopping had to get done. Brock didn't tell you when Bucky would drop in, only that he would and it would be in the evening.  
Hair in a bun, you put on a new set of clothes and trudged out the door. 

The good thing about Bucky, or at least what you had assumed from his demeanor, is that he wouldn't mind very much if he was wearing a particular brand (though with the pay that SHIELD was chucking at you, you very well could afford designer clothing). He seemed very low maintenance, like yourself. As long as it covered everything and would make him blend in, then it would serve its purpose. Covered everything... did he care if his arm was showing? A metal arm would stand out, even with Stark technology giving amputees everywhere a new lease on life. 

A department store would have everything you need, so that was your first and only stop. Black... black suited Bucky just fine, but you chose some shades of green and blue as well. He had such beautiful eyes. You bet that if he smiled, they would light up an entire room. But there was no way that would happen. He never came close to that around you, and certainly not on missions.  
You found large and extra large shirts in long and short sleeve styles. A few short, a couple long, in shades of blue and green. A roomy black jacket would cover up the arm just fine, you figured. You followed Pierce's instructions for pants sizes and you figured boots would fit Bucky's personality better than tennis shoes.  
You mused that it had been awhile since you had a boyfriend, or even someone to buy for. There was the Secret Santa at the hospital, and you always found nice gifts for fellow MDs, but for someone special? It had been years.  
“Is this for someone special?”  
Your head snapped at those words, and you found yourself looking at a spritely sales associate, all smiles and bouncy hair. “Um... sorry?” you mumbled. Suddenly, your arms felt weary from carrying your future purchases.  
“Your purchases? If they're for a boyfriend that you're trying to style up a bit, we have some other products that will help. Colognes, wristwatches, shaving kits...”  
“It's not for...” Well, you supposed Bucky was someone special to you. “I could actually use some shaving stuff.”  
The woman, Alena, led you to the beauty section of the store, pointing out state-of-the-art tech and some designer collections. You picked up an Old Spice and a simple razor, but thanked the girl for her help.  
“I hope he looks better. You have good taste.”  
You blushed at that and muttered out a thank you before heading to the cash registers. A glance at your phone meant that you had to hurry back for a shower and prepping.  
Handing over your credit card, you heard a couple talking behind you about a huge shooting between police and a highly-armed suspect, who disappeared from the crime scene. If that was the case, then you had better hurry home. The streets of D.C. were no place for hanging around when a maniac was on the loose. 

Still, you felt safe in your area of the neighborhood. The Captain America lived a few blocks down from where you lived. Sometimes you saw him jogging around the National Mall when you were getting home from a graveyard shift at the hospital. You never stopped him to say hello, mostly because you could never raise your voice loud enough for when he would pass by. A mighty swish of air and he would already be hundreds of feet away. He really was a super soldier. 

Looking around the sidewalks and alleyways on your walk back, you couldn't find any sign of an attack, but the whole city seemed to be gossiping about what they saw. An SUV flipping around, explosions, chases, gunfire exchanging on all sides, and the disappearance of the suspect; these few details made you speed home just that much quicker.  
You unpacked your haul and started to wash the new clothes. While the cycle span out, you carefully placed Bucky's toiletries into your bathroom. Shaving cream... a toothbrush (to be fair, you had a few extras lying around, so at least you didn't have to go for that)... a razor... and you found some unscented shampoo, just in case he scoffed at your apple-scented stash. You double-checked your first-aid kit and put some fresh towels out. It felt so homey, but it made you realize that you really were alone. Dead mother, father very far away, no boyfriend, and your only friends were your fellow doctors, whom you never saw much anymore thanks to your new job. Maybe once this Bucky thing was over they would have you back. 

A quick shower and hair dry and you realized it was eight o'clock. You barely had lunch. Putting dinner on the stove, you picked at a bowl of cookies. Maybe Bucky wasn't coming tonight after all. At that point, you were disappointed, not that you wouldn't see him, but rather that you had cleaned for nothing. 

But not to worry, your phone rang while you shoveled food into your mouth. Bucky would be at your door just after midnight. 

_Try to take a nap. It's your mission too. B.R._

“Fair enough,” you muttered. You put the leftovers in the fridge, did the dishes, and put your feet up on that lovely couch of yours, but not before setting an alarm for half past midnight. Imagine you sleeping through your part of the mission! That just made you feel special. You were part of a team again. You were helping. You were doing something. Whether or not you agreed with what was best for Bucky, your secret mission seemed to be working. Bucky didn't seem so scared of you anymore and even preferred you. You were making a difference, a positive one. With that confidence, you slowly closed your eyes and felt the darkness take you.


	5. Your House Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky would probably be a nice house guest, even as the Winter Soldier. Probably would clean up after himself and everything.

Your phone's deep rumble on your coffee table woke you up. Another text from Brock with your alarm.

_Open up your kitchen window at 12:24 a.m. Bucky will slip inside soon after. Keep quiet. You will escort him to the bank at 11:00 am the next day. Don't die. B.R._

It was 12:15 a.m. By all accounts, you should have been asleep for the night as a whole, but with a nap and an adrenaline rush, there was no way in hell you were tired. You slapped yourself awake and paced around your kitchen island waiting for 12:24 to arrive. When it did, you gently slid the window up and stepped out of the way. Straining your ears, you picked up a grunt and a loud metal clang that reverberated in your soul. You heard the softest grunt after that. Was something going happening on top of the roof? Your apartment roof? 

You were about to stick your head outside when the large figure that you knew to be Bucky swung into your kitchen and slid out of sight behind the island. An ambulance siren, several actually, sounded from the street, and you took that opportunity to gaze outside. They were all rushing toward the apartment complex about a block down from you, and you wondered what it was about. Did it relate to Bucky? It had to. Regardless, you gently and ever so quietly shut the window and closed the curtains.   
“It's safe,” you whispered, flipping on a light.   
You had never seen Bucky in his combat gear before. Usually he was shirtless whenever you were at the bank, metal arm out and proud. Here... his metal arm was showing too. You took that in first, as you always did and continued to do for some time after.   
He was decked out in combat gear, all black, with a gun at his side and a mask covering the lower half of his face. There was some black material covering his eyes and you weren't quite sure where it came from. Bucky himself was looking around your apartment, checking out the perimeter to see if it was as safe as you promised.  
Then your eyes connected. As brilliantly blue as ever, you lost the ability to look at him. It was like looking into a solar eclipse. You busied yourself with wetting a dish towel for his eye marks. 

You expected Bucky to be wandering around your apartment, bored after his security check, but he was right behind you, hand still on the gun and mask still on. A small gasp escaped from your lips as you turned to nearly knock into him.  
“I can take that if you want. You should wipe your face off,” you murmured. To your surprise, again, he handed over his weapon and took off his mask. You were risking your better judgment to gaze at this man's face (he was a goddamned spy that had probably killed someone, not to mention he was your patient!), but you could barely help it. It was aesthetically on the mark.   
While Bucky rubbed at his eyes, you stowed the gun away in the duffel bag you had dug out of your closet. You weren't keeping that thing in your apartment and you were sure Bucky would take it when his departure was ready. So under the bed it went.

You stuck around in your bedroom for a bit longer. What now? Do you offer him a shower? Comfier clothes? Food? Water? All seemed like good options, but which one to offer first? Nourishment first seemed to be best. You didn't know when he last ate. Then he could take a shower and relax before switching clothes. Remembering that you were his doctor and not just a host, you kept that trump card in your back pocket before walking back out to your living room, finding an eye-smudgeless Bucky waiting for you.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, walking toward the fridge. You had a veritable shit ton of leftovers in there. The thing about living alone was that the meals that went on your stove and in your mouth were portioned for more than one person. Your sister might have been able to eat many plates of pasta in one sitting, but you never could. “I have a lot of food.”   
Bucky didn't say anything, but did sit at the kitchen counter, looking expectantly at you.   
“Look, I know you're not much of a talker, and I get that because I'm pretty shy too, but you're going to have to help me out a bit,” you sighed, pouring a pitcher of ice water out for your guest. Setting the glass in front of him, you added, “I want to help you be comfortable.”  
There was a short pause. “I would like some food,” Bucky murmured, staring at his drink. He had a quiet cadence. Not exactly a baritone, but masculine. But... for being so tough and so deadly out on the field, you sensed timidity. Was no one truly kind to him? He wasn't a monster as far as you were concerned, even if SHIELD wanted it that way, what with you not being allowed to even use his name. Well, like it or not, Bucky would have to get used to you being the nourishing person that you were.   
“Thank you.” 

You smiled as you turned your back to fetch some food out of the fridge. Bucky sipped at his water intermittently. It was clean, cleaner than what he had been used to for years and years. His doctor was now putting food inside of some sort of machine, pressing buttons... must be something for prep. You were bent down again and going into the back. He wasn't getting used to the fact that he was mildly attracted to you, and he did not want that to happen. He didn't like anyone and no one liked him. Well... you seemed to like him, but he didn't know why. Hell, he didn't even know his own name let alone where he had come from.   
In a few minutes, several plates of hot and cold food were pushed in front of him, along with a bowl of fruit. He didn't even have to slice it himself because you took that upon yourself. Bucky looked up at you with knitted eyebrows. He felt like interrogating you. You were being nice. Too nice. You wanted something. 

“I'm going to get things set up in the bathroom. I bought a few things for you. I assume you're not going to sleep in your body armor.” You smiled at him again, but hurried off when he didn't return it.   
You muttered to yourself in an effort to remember everything the bathroom needed while Bucky ate. “Let's see... towel and washcloth on the rack... soap out... shaving kit... toothbrush and floss... hair dryer... oh, clothes!” You hopped back out to your bedroom where Bucky's nightclothes were waiting. You didn't know if Bucky was comfortable walking around in a towel, though you might not have minded yourself.   
After you set the nightclothes on a countertop, you were ready to walk out to see Bucky again at the counter. He had moved to the perimeter of the living room, examining your things. CDs, DVDs, books, magazines and knick-knacks. You stood back for a moment and let him pace around. It was in his nature apparently. Deftly tiptoeing to him, you wondered if you could sneak up on a world-class spy. 

You couldn't.

“I finished,” he said, not turning around. “The plates are in the sink.”  
“Oh, thank you!” You could get them in the dishwasher while Bucky took a shower. “Having fun?”  
“No.” He stood and turned to you. “You look tired.”  
Your eyes did tend to look a little baggy those days, due to your new schedule of early morning meetings or late night visitations, sometimes on the fly.  
“I am tired, but I need to take care of you first. I have the bathroom set up for a shower with nightclothes for you.”  
“I don't need a shower,” he said stubbornly. The last thing he needed was to make himself vulnerable, especially in a place with few escape options.  
“Doctor's orders. It will make you feel better.”   
It felt pretty cool to be able to throw that weight around. And it did get Bucky pacing toward the bathroom. Before he entered, you put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to your bedroom. “I'm sleeping on the couch tonight after I do the dishes. You can sleep here.”  
A small part of the forties chivalry buried deep inside your patient arose at that. “You don't need to. I'll take the couch.”  
“And yet I insist. Doct-”  
“Doctor's orders,” he finished. “Alright.”  
You smiled and patted him on the back before heading back to the kitchen to clean up his midnight meal. 

He ate everything. There were only cores and sauce streaks left in all your dishes. When was the last time Bucky had a half-decent meal? You weren't close to the best cook, but Bucky ate everything to a degree of completion that you rarely saw in even yourself. He probably ate from army-style heated lunches. You had a few of those once. They weren't bad, but they weren't home-cooked good either.

You had put the last plate in the dishwasher when you heard a loud, sustained grunt come from the bathroom. Panic entered your heart and you flew down the hall to the bathroom.  
“Are you okay?” you asked, pressing your ear to the door and knocking. You received no answer. Jiggling the knob revealed a locked door. Your junk drawer had the key. Swiftness was imperative. Razor cut, slip and fall, arm malfunction, you weren't sure what was wrong.   
And then you remembered Bucky's “tantrums” from the old medical files. Your life could be at stake by even opening the door. Of course, your oath as a doctor came into your mind, and you couldn't let a patient deal with untreated pain. So you found the key and made your way back to the bathroom.


	6. The Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bucky. Poor, poor Bucky.

Bucky had waited until your footsteps disappeared before he locked the door behind him. Examining the small area, he found no window, so the door was the only way in or out. In the event of an emergency, he had to fight back with a small knife he had on his person.   
But you weren't stupid. You wouldn't let anyone into your apartment. You would scream your head off if someone did happen to break in. That would be enough warning for him to jump out and save himself... and you if he had to. If he could.

After calming himself, he stripped down and took a shower. Bucky did as you asked, and the water did as you promised. He actually felt himself relax with each second passing by. He didn't remember the last time he had the luxury to use a shower for as long as he wanted. At HYDRA, it was five minutes at best, seven if his squad leader was dragging his feet. He only stepped out when he felt the hot water dissipating. The heat was better, he thought as he shut his eyes. Closing his eyes usually meant cold. He had control here. Control over what he wanted. That's what he had with you.

Bucky stared into your medicine cabinet mirror after the shower and what stared back was a man he barely knew. He functioned, but he didn't live. Distraction was what he needed, and he looked around for it. You said you left some stuff out for him. A razor and some shaving cream? He supposed he could use a shave, and so he did.   
After he was finished, he sniffed the air. The scent from the cream was strong... Bucky felt his skin start to crawl, and a dull pain in his mind soon became extremely sharp, so sharp that he let out a grunt. Something entered his mind, a vision.

_“C'mon, Steve, everyone has to learn how to shave sometime.”_   
_He was staring at a short, gangly boy, who himself was staring into a mirror._   
_“I don't even have a beard, you idiot.”_   
_“Well then, won't you be glad that you know when you grow one. Assuming you'll remember in fifty years.”_   
_“Shut up.” The boy, Steve, looked up at him with a wry smile that betrayed a bravery and intelligence lying just below the surface. And he felt himself smile too._

As the vision ended, Bucky let out another grunt, this one that echoed inside the small bathroom. Seconds later there was a knock at the door and your voice. Bucky whipped his head around, his voice lost. No, he was not okay. He saw something and he didn't know what it was. He was scared, in pain, and alone. 

He struggled for air, and was still crouched on the ground when the door flew open. There you were, looking scared and holding a small key in your hand. And Bucky did try to push you away when you settled on the ground next to him, checking him over. You ignored him. You had to! You had a diagnosis to make.

“Shaking, unsteady breathing, dilated pupils, sweating,” you muttered, feeling for a pulse. “Blood pressure high and unresponsive to questions.” You looked him in the eye, and Bucky, wide-eyed, could only stare back. Your blurry image started to come into focus, but there was no fear that mirrored his visage. Instead there was a look of focus, intensity and anticipation at his next word. What were you? Why weren't you scared?! He realized you were speaking to him, as he struggled so hard to hold on to what had to have been a memory. “What happened? Please say something. I need you to speak to me...”  
“I saw... something,” he muttered, leaning against the wall.   
“Something, what did you see?”  
“I don't know. It was blurry... I couldn't tell, it was someone and I was there.”  
You looked for the right words as Bucky leaned forward, head in his hands. He had brain wipes done, many from your knowledge. Could he have remembered something? Did something like that cause pain?  
“Can you stand?” you asked softly. “If you triggered a flashback or something, it would be better to be on a comfortable surface, not a linoleum floor.”  
“Fine,” he muttered, pushing you away again. “I'm fine. Leave me alone.”   
That wasn't enough for you, and you took back his arm and led him to your bedroom. “I'll leave you alone when I'm done with my exam.” The least he could do was be thankful that someone cared, but you held your breath. Bucky didn't give you much more of a fight as you sat him on the edge of the bed, looking down at him. “Wait here.”

Bucky stayed put, but took the time to look around your quarters. It was tastefully decorated, but rather sparse. The bed was comfy, no metal springs, high thread-count sheets and several pillows lining the headboard. Small nightstand, lamp, computer at a desk, closet doors closed with a high-class dress hanging off a knob. Did you wear nice things like that? To go out dancing? He sniffed the air and a very light scent of perfume hit him.   
He was in a woman's bedroom, on her bed, in her apartment. And the woman in question was about to return. Though he had been celibate for years due to his placement as the Winter Soldier, the implications of his situation did not go over his head. 

Just as he was about to jump out the window, you returned with a small case and stationed it on your nightstand.   
“Okay, I'm just going to check you out and then you can go to sleep. I'll have breakfast in the morning. All right, I'm going to take a look at your eyes...”  
Bucky felt his heart pump as you bent over him, staring into his eyes (well, one eye at a time) and make small mutters at her findings. He heard words like “dilated” and “flickering”, but he didn't pay attention to that. What he did focus on were your physical features, something he never cared to notice before. Until you examining him in your bedroom, he observed you as either a potential target or a calming presence. Now, with the closeness and the personal setting, he took in much more physically. Your hair smelled like apples. He could've sworn he really liked apples. You had a birthmark next to your right eye that could have been a beauty mark for all he knew. Your eyelashes were naturally long. You had some nicks and scars on your arms from accidental burns and knife cuts. Your figure was breathtaking and he fought himself not to gaze after you when you left the room to put your kit back. 

Then it hit him. He was scared. But of you? How could he be? You weren't exactly tall or well-built, he reasoned as you walked back in. You couldn't win a fight with him if you wanted to. Maybe it was something beyond your body that made him anxious.   
“Looks like you've got some minor trauma from your recollection. Scent is a powerful thing, isn't it? I've heard that it's the best of the five senses for memories. But I think sleep will help a lot. I'll be on the couch if you need me, okay?”  
Bucky stiffly nodded as you gently closed the door behind you. It wasn't the only thing, but it was a factor. You were smart... you were pretty... you were kind... you cared. You must have been like that young man that he saw in his memory. He and Steve just had to have been friends. HYDRA tried to destroy that fact. Friends made you weak and hard to control. If you got too close, HYDRA would kill anything that made him lose focus and wipe his mind to cover their tracks. That did trigger some fear in him.

And that's when Bucky realized what he had to lose. You.   
If you attempted to show him mercy or go against what Pierce wanted, you were dead. And he might be the one to pull the trigger.  
Bucky shook his head at that thought. No. He wouldn't let that happen. You were going to stay safe. He wouldn't be the one to end your life. 

Before trying to get some sleep, Bucky looked at a small framed photo on your nightstand. It was you when you were young, and your mother was next to you. It had to be, you shared so many features. Eyes, nose, cheekbones...   
Bucky screwed up his face and tried to remember the small memory he had. An undernourished young man... Steve was his name... a small mirror on a medicine cabinet... it was so long ago. It was triggered by some shaving cream, wasn't it? Bucky was hungry for a new memory, pain or no. He glanced over at your dresser and saw some perfumes on the top. Surely you wouldn't notice if he sniffed a few.   
With stealth he would reserve for missions, Bucky slid over to the dresser and began examining them. The bottles looked very expensive, but also barely used. Did you go on many dates? It didn't appear so. Grabbing one of your spare shirts lying on the floor, Bucky quietly sprayed different sections of the accoutrement with the different bottles. With six in all, surely he would trigger something.   
He muttered a short curse with each failure. Then again, that was too easy. Maybe memories came in different ways? He should be thankful for just one, and that one came with enough pain.   
Sighing, Bucky headed back to bed. Tomorrow, he felt, was going to be a long day. HYDRA had yet to deal with the fallout of the death of Fury, and if he was still out of cryo after that mission, it meant that more work was yet to come.

You, while Bucky was sniffing your personal display of perfumes - you would have helped too! - settled into the couch and set the alarm on your phone. Brock said to get to the bank at 11 a.m. It was only twenty minutes by cab in heavy traffic, but you thought Bucky should get some fresh air, so you decided an hour walk sounded better. A 9 a.m. wake-up call was pretty generous, you considered.  
So Bucky had a flashback... you thought mind wipes sounded rather permanent, but perhaps not. If memories could be triggered by scent alone, then what could his name bring back? Old pictures? Perhaps the wipes merely shorted the memories out, and they could be recalled by leaving him be. The Occam's razor of rehabilitation. Well, that unfortunately was not your job. Your job was to administer mind wipes, not counter them. Maybe Pierce would be okay if you sat those out, or you could convince him to leave them out all together. Bucky was able to follow simple instruction with you. Why not with SHIELD?   
Bucky's situation managed to press your pity button. Your brainwashed little Bucky... and guilt hit you like a rock again. You were abating the cause of keeping Bucky more a machine and less a man in the presence of those that hired you in the first place. And also, Bucky killed people. You had to remember that. You couldn't get in too deep. What was important was following the rules given to you by the government. The regular government hated whistleblowers and actively set out to ruin their lives. What was a more secretive government like with the same sort of crowd? You really did like being alive. But you also liked helping people, and Bucky needed more help than any patient you had ever had.


	7. Back at SHIELD's Bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly the elevator scene is one of my favorites. Reader doesn't get to see it except for the aftermath. Can you imagine accidentally being in that elevator just because it happened to be there and you didn't want to take the stairs? Shit.

You woke up a half-hour before your designated alarm to the sound of rhythmic grunts and exhales from your bedroom. They startled you at first, but then you realized they sounded like exercise. Bucky had a morning routine? It made sense. He was very toned and probably had to exercise daily to keep his shape. You, on the other hand, could deal without that. You kept fit with walks and stretches, or whatever else you could do outside of a gym.   
An interruption sounded like a poor idea, so you made yourself busy with getting breakfast. You set out a few fruits for Bucky and started frying up some eggs for yourself. After eating, you two would get dressed and head out to HQ, where Bucky would probably learn the next phase of his mission. Seeing as you had already did a check-up on him after last night's memory triggering, you thought that you would be right out the door and back home. You would figure out how wrong you were later, but for now, you waited for Bucky.

Twenty minutes seemed like a long time for merely morning calisthenics. The rhythmic grunting didn't seem to break, and that was a long time to exercise without food. Doctor duty called, and you headed into your bedroom with a plateful of sliced fruit and some juice.  
“Time for breakfast,” you called, knocking on the door gently. It appeared you had not interrupted his concentration any. You wondered how his mother would scold him if he wasn't at the table on time, and you snorted to yourself as you thought about calling out his full name in a heavy Brooklyn accent. But now wasn't the time for that. You instead opened up the door to your bedroom to find Bucky on the floor doing an impossibly high number of sit-ups.   
“You are going to destroy your back if you keep doing that,” you advised, squatting down next to him. At that, he stopped to look at you, cocked eyebrow. “Don't give me that look. I'm a doctor.”  
“That's all I know.”  
“Things have changed. Studies show that crunches and traditional sit-ups hurt your back unless your form is perfect, but even then it's not working core muscles well enough. Squats with weights are a bit better for you.”  
Bucky paused. “Okay then, I'll do that.”  
“Wonderful,” you grinned. “Now I have some breakfast that I want you to eat. We're leaving for HQ in a half-hour and I think it'll be better if we both walk.” You handed him the bowl and glass before cleaning up your bedroom, picking up spare attire and making the bed.   
Bucky ate and watched you carefully. He hadn't forgotten about his revelation that your life was in jeopardy due to your affiliation with HYDRA. You flounced around the room, looking as pretty as ever in a set of two sizes too big pants and shirt, not a care in the world in his eyes. He raised his eyebrow again when you bent down under your bed right next to him and pulled out a duffel bag with something heavy in it.  
“Here's your gun. I figure it's safer in a duffel bag and it won't get you attention on the street. I put your other armor stuff in there too. If you don't mind, can you finish your breakfast out in the kitchen? I want to get dressed.”  
Mutedly Bucky headed on out, food and drink in hand and metal hand. 

He had felt an odd sensation bubble below the surface as he continued to eat, absentmindedly grabbing a muffin off a plate nearby. Bucky felt that he would normally have said something to that, like helping you dress (or undress?), but he stopped himself. You made him think that there was more to him than being the Winter Soldier and he needed more time with you to develop on that. What did you say? That you two would be walking to the bank? That was a good enough excuse as any.  
Bucky heard garments hit the floor and a light hum sounding from your bedroom. He wondered idly if you were going to notice that one of your spare shirts smelled heavily of a garden variety of perfumes, but he didn't put too much thought into that. He could tell that you weren't the type to keep a clean house. Blankets weren't folded military style despite your earnest effort to make the folds even and there was a thin layer of dust on a can of Pledge spray left out on a nearby shelf. The least he could have been was flattered that you went to a lot of trouble to make your apartment hospitable, but he was still the Winter Soldier with little interest in homemaking. 

You came back out in a light jacket and a pair of jeans. The weather was nice enough to forgo a jacket, but you decided that since Bucky would probably prefer something to cover his metal arm, you didn't want him to feel on his own. After years spent in colder climates during your childhood, you could never rely on the weather to remain nice anyway, so you nearly always brought a light jacket out.   
“Okay, you can change now. I've laid out some clothes for you, so pick out what you want,” you announced, walking back in. You perched yourself on the seat next to him and looked over. “Did you have enough to eat? I can make you something else and we can catch a cab instead?”  
He was, and would always be, perplexed by your consistently nice behavior. His past was filled with fear from what doctors could and would do to him, whether or not he agreed. HYDRA managed to find sadistic doctors or ones that treated him like a machine. Where did they find you? And why? In the first few days of knowing you, he thought your consideration was a façade for something worse to come, to lull him into a false sense of security. But now he accepted that this was just the way you were, which made him even more fearful of an untimely demise in your future. Kindness in HYDRA's ranks was a synonym for naïveté. If you didn't realize how deep in you were, and if you got in the way, then you were as good as dead.   
“I'm fine,” he muttered out before standing. “I'll be back in five minutes.” 

You looked after him as he went before cleaning up from breakfast. What a relief to get Bucky back out of your apartment. You could be a slob again and never dust. Still, Bucky was starting to be more than a patient for you and the thought of him spending the night again made you smile.   
He unlocked a memory last night. It caused him some pain, but he recovered quickly and accepted your treatment. He couldn't articulate what he saw, but it appeared that he wasn't dwelling on it. This meant that HYDRA didn't have to know if Bucky acted like everything was normal. That was probably a good thing.   
As Bucky dressed, he glanced at the mirror hanging on the door every now and again. It had been a long time since he was put in civilian clothes. You had good taste at what would suit him. Green was a good color on him and the boots fit well. However, he felt naked without a shred of armor on him. At least he had his arm, and it was covered too. A metal hand didn't seem too distinguishable, but a metal arm would attract too much attention. A hat would have been nice though. 

He wasn't prepared for the glowing look on your face when he stepped into the living room dressed in the clothes you bought him. Making people happy was never something he was good at. When people grinned around him, it was because he killed the right person or was on a mission to do just that. Nothing as simple as this.  
You honestly thought he looked like a model, dead look in the eyes and all. There was a wish that he would light up, and you wondered just how much control HYDRA had on him to the point where smiling was impossible.   
“Ready?” you asked, getting your purse. He nodded in return, adjusting his duffel bag of uniform and firearms. “Then out we go.” 

Bucky followed you out and waited for you to lock the door behind you. He could feel eyes on the back of his head from your neighbors. They had heard you come back to your apartment last night, but there wasn't a young man who joined you. No one had dared mention him to your face, due to the fact that Bucky scared most of them off.  
All except for your dear old neighbor Ms. Cho, an eighty-year-old divorcee who loved to hand out advice to anyone with an open ear, and also gossip. There were at least three different versions about why she abandoned her marriage, but they all centered around her not being able to sense when she should stop talking. You were often too polite to turn her down, and so had to plan your exits around her schedule. Unfortunately, now was not that time.  
She called your name and Bucky saw you flinch. He held back a smirk.   
“I thought I warned you about men that are tall, dark and handsome!”  
“Hello, Ms. Cho,” you muttered, putting on a smile.   
“Where did he come from? I know that you didn't bring him in last night...”  
“Well, as a matter of fact-”  
“So he's a regular now?” She eyed Bucky's bag with curiosity.  
“I don't know if I'd go that far...”  
“Well, he looks like he'd make for a good fuck, but not much more than that,” the old woman said with an air of being much too old to give any sort of shit what anyone thought of her, especially - now granted she didn't know that - a government spy-assassin. “You're a doctor! Find someone who's going to worship you and depend on you for everything.”  
“Ms. Cho, I'm sorry, I have an appointment to keep,” you said in the most strained voice edging on kindly that Bucky had heard out of you yet. You took his arm and made for the stairs while Ms. Cho called out advice to your back.  
“Use a condom!”

You grumbled to yourself as you trotted down the stairs, Bucky right behind you. He stayed silent until the pair of you hit the pavement.   
“Does that happen often?”  
“Yes,” you answered shortly, keeping your eyes to the ground as you often did when you walked in public. “I can't believe she insinuated you were living with me and everything. For God's sake, she knows everyone's business and now everyone's going to know mine, which isn't even true...”   
“Sorry...”  
You looked up at that, a pout on your lip. “Are you teasing me?”  
“Teasing?”  
“Yeah, I can hear it in your tone. But that can't be right. You don't seem like the teasing type.”  
“I'm not.”  
You shrugged and apologized yourself. “I'm just teased a lot and I thought... well, sorry again.” You nudged him. “I wouldn't mind teasing out of you though. You're human, you should act like it.”  
This was good to Bucky. He was getting to know you better and you encouraged him to express himself. He had to build on that momentum. “You're teased a lot?”  
“Yeah, for keeping to myself sometimes. Get called a push-over too. I guess that doesn't bother me. I know I can be firm. I just prefer being nice.”  
Bucky knew that was true and he respected that. He searched for something else to ask you, but you broke the silence every now and again with casual observations. “Look, puppies!” “Thank goodness we're walking. Traffic is terrible.” “I think someone's having a wedding.”  
He learned that you absolutely despise driving in the city, had a fondness for animals but couldn't keep a pet due to your career hours, and very much wanted to get married one day. You didn't elaborate on that one, and with a faint blush you must have been embarrassed to discuss that around a man. Fair enough, he thought. He was learning more about you and small talk between the two of you seemed to bring out some good in him. It was vaguely like learning to ride a bicycle. Deep down, Bucky felt that he would be comfortable talking and socializing. With being the Winter Soldier, those opportunities were nonexistent. A connection to someone would be lost as soon as a mission was over, as cryo came shortly after. 

You managed to talk just enough that the trip to the bank was filled with information about yourself to Bucky. He stored it away in his brain, even against the inevitability of a mind wipe.   
“Oh look, we're here! I didn't mean to bore you for so long,” you apologized, patting his arm. “Just let me get my pass.”  
Bucky's face hardened at the face of the building. Inside there was likely a new mission and none of the warmth that you so readily gave.  
He watched you scan a keycard in front of a reader. There was a small beep and inside you two went. Bucky, now, stayed right behind you as you led him into main room. Passing by armed guard after armed guard, you found Pierce there waiting for you. Interestingly, without Brock and his dispatch team.  
“Ah, the good doctor,” Pierce said when he greeted you, smile as ready as ever. “I see you're in one piece, as is our Winter Solider?”  
“Yes, sir. It seemed to go as planned,” you replied. “Everything Brock said would happen did.”  
“Excellent! I hope he wasn't trouble?”   
“No, sir.”  
“And did he behave himself?” Behind the pleasant edge of his voice you sensed another question being asked. _Do you need to tell me something?_  
You disguised your suspicion with a chuckle. “I don't know what everyone's complaining about. He's very... well-mannered.”   
“Ah, you calm me so. I have an appointment with Mr. Captain America this afternoon regarding the successful mission last night. Mr. Rumlow and his team are already at headquarters. I need you to be there as well.”  
“What for, sir?”  
“I have a feeling things are going to be bumpy after a chat with Rogers,” Pierce replied with a sigh. “Pieces are missing from the puzzle. If it goes how I suspect, I'll need medical personnel onsite. You've proven yourself very capable, so I want you to be there. As for our soldier, put him on ice.”  
“Ice? Cryo?” you asked, knitting your eyebrows.   
“I understand that's not your division.” Pierce smiled at you. “He's used to it, don't worry. We'll hatch him out at the end of the week.”  
Not cryo, not for Bucky. As Pierce wiped his glasses, you hazarded a look at your patient. He seemed to have faded out of consciousness, yet standing. The word 'cryo' seemed to put him in a half-catatonic state. That wasn't good. You needed to stop it. Convince Pierce that Bucky could be useful through the week, whatever the end of the week meant.  
“Um, sir? Perhaps...”  
“Yes, miss?”  
“I don't think that's a very good idea.”  
Pierce looked at you, eyebrows up. You knew you were toeing something boundaries, but you went on despite a wavering in your voice. You could be calm and even boss Bucky around a little bit, but a seventy-year-old man made you shaky? An attempt to erase his stature in your job was half-successful.  
“Is it not, Doctor?”  
“Well, the way I see it,” you started, going for a logical explanation, “it's a waste. I can feed him and give him a bed, that's not too much trouble. Besides, if your meeting with Rogers doesn't go as intended, then won't B- um... his skill set be very much in demand? It would be a lot of trouble to put him on ice only to wake him up two hours later if the super soldier isn't detained. Which is what I'm guessing you want if Brock is over at SHIELD? I don't mean to insinuate that you don't make the best decisions and I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds, but I think cryo should be saved for when you're 100% in the clear.”   
You took several breaths as Pierce digested your diatribe. He didn't interrupt you once and you were still standing, alive, so maybe you had a shot. With a shrug and a mild look of indifference, you knew you won the battle.  
“Interesting argument. I think that would be for the best. Always account for a win and a loss, very sound strategy.” Pierce looked over at Bucky and cleared his throat, Bucky's attention brought up from the floor to the old man. “Looks like you live to not be frozen another day. You ought to be thankful that someone's seeing you as useful as the rest of us know you are.” With that, Pierce adjusted his glasses and offered his arm. “Shall we be off?”  
“Yes, sir.” You gave Bucky a small wave as other agents gave him a debriefing. Bucky nodded in reply and watched you go until you turned the corner. 

You saved him in a small way. From a cold pod shoved away somewhere, he was now in the real world and could stay like that for a little longer. He felt a large sense of gratitude toward you that he wasn't quite sure how to express. After years in HYDRA's ranks, he grew (devolved?) into an emotionally stunted individual. 

But you helped curb that. Just as soon as you saved him, you were leaving on the arm of the man who could kill you for doing it again.


	8. Fights In An Elevator - Punchin' It Up When You're Goin' Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today. No seriously, I love the elevator scene. It's just kind of weird watching the making-of on the DVD because everything is green screen. Like they couldn't find an office building with windows. Weird. No Bucky in this one. He'll be in the next one. Cameo appearance by Jasper Sitwell, yay!

“Well well well! Look who has functionality of all her limbs!” Brock said, slapping you on the back with a goofy grin. “Usually Bucky isn't so kind to doctors and yet you're constantly proving us wrong.”  
“What, do you have a pool going or something?” you grumbled, your back smarting in the area you got congratulated. 

You and Brock weren't alone in the sparse halls of SHIELD. There may have been about six agents with Brock, and according him there were an additional five on the next few floors. Strategies were discussed and outcomes were considered, but all of them seemed to end up in favor of the agents. Not Steve, Mr. Captain America. You had a funny feeling you knew exactly what would happen, but you kept those thoughts to yourself. You just couldn't bring Brock down from his apparent cheeriness.

“I'm winning,” he chuckled. “You'd make a great agent if you bulked up a little. Avoiding certain death is quite desirable in our ranks. I'd be appreciative of the help.”  
“Is that a fact? You've got enough brawn for five guys.”  
“I'll need twenty to fight Rogers,” he sighed, adjusting his stun rod on his belt loop. Ah, there was the anxiety on his face. Though that may have been more about self-preservation than fighting his past squad leader. “He's about to come down from the office any minute.”  
“At least you look remorseful about it.”  
“Hey, he makes missions easier. Going to miss that perk.”  
“Well... watch out.” You nudged him. “It'll make my life easier.”  
“Pain only makes you stronger. I know telling a doctor that is counterproductive, but it's true.”  
“Then I'll make sure not to give you any medical attention.” You watched as the gaggle of very burly men gathered behind him. “You going to fit everyone in that elevator with room to swing a punch?”  
Brock just laughed. “Just increasing the odds.”  
“Have fun,” you sang when Brock's cell went off. “I'll be waiting. And Brock?” He turned to look at you. “Don't get hurt. Please?”  
He gave you a small smile. “You're one of the good ones, huh?”

With that, Brock put on a somber face back on and headed into the waiting elevator with four other men, all dispatch members that you had met before in the bank HQ. You saw Steve's face for a split-second, but he didn't seem to see you.  
As it closed, you headed down a couple floors to wait for the inevitable conclusion of Captain America escaping. He fought the Nazis. And won. You didn't know what a crowded elevator could possibly do.

You passed by SWAT teams as you descended and finally you heard a faint crash. Outside you saw the tiny figure of Steve running toward the garage of the SHIELD HQ. Alarms sounded and you smirked to yourself. There was no stopping Captain America. SHIELD didn't know, but you had a few of his comic books growing up. He was your invincible hero, just like Bucky, except Bucky was your invincible patient that needed looking after.  
As you watched everyone race around, eventually a bespectacled agent named Jasper Sitwell ushered you toward the elevator where body upon body of downed SHIELD agents were being dragged out.  
“Pierce says to get to work and patch them up. Rogers should be revealing his location in the next few hours. Good luck and work fast,” he muttered, rubbing circles into his temples.  
“Have fun finding the Captain,” you replied, rolling up your sleeves.

Most men just took hard body blows or a swift punch to the head, and didn't need much more than some water to the face. You handed out ice and dealt with bruised ribs and small facial lacerations. Nothing too major, thank God.  
“Man, he does clean work, doesn't he?” you hummed, cleaning a particularly nasty cut from a wayward ring punch. “Though your own guy hit you for this one.”  
“I know,” the agent replied, glaring opposite the hall to a man applying ice to his side. “Hurry up, Rogers could be anywhere in D.C. by now.”  
“I'm moving. More than one doctor would have helped. Besides, you aren't my number-one priority.”  
“That's the Winter Soldier,” Brock replied, grunting as he stood. “I made it out okay.”  
“Yeah, but you let the target escape,” you reminded him, tossing some gauze and rubbing alcohol his way. “And now you're just waiting for the call, huh?”  
“He won't escape this time,” he grit out, wincing as he stretched his back. 

You silently made your own deductions of what would happen next as you patched up the dispatch team and sent them on their way. In your case, you headed back to the bank to check out Bucky and make sure he was doing okay. You were in charge of medical decisions if Pierce wasn't there, and Odin help them if Bucky was going through some shit he didn't have to.  
You landed several successes that day and it wasn't even four in the afternoon. Positive vibes emanated from your core as you headed down the street, ignoring the gossip of Steve Rogers being spotted at the mall downtown with a short redhead. Nothing could bring you down.

And yet, something would bring you down in the next couple of days. Hell, you almost died. But don't worry, that will be told soon.


	9. Danger Afoot - Or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute Bucky is cute. Just wish he didn't have to go through so much shit.

You arrived back at the bank to see Bucky, if for nothing else than to check up on him. Idly you wondered if Pierce would let you watch after him until he was needed for a mission. Pierce was convinced by your dialogue to let Bucky stay un-cryoed, and you were determined to make it worth Bucky's while. He was pretty open when you two were walking around unawares down the streets of D.C. Maybe a walk in the park would be delightful for him. 

You let that thought stew in your mind as you headed inside the bank. There you found Bucky having his arm worked on my some engineers. They glanced up at you before continuing their task. Bucky, on the other hand, looked as if he had been anticipating your arrival for quite some time and visibly relaxed as you took a seat next to him.   
“Is something wrong with your arm?” you asked, perusing through his file. It didn't seem like any new notes were there. “No one told me...”  
“Just a tune-up,” he replied.   
“It doesn't hurt, does it?”  
He shook his head in reply. Your eyes flickered to the engineers and you could have sworn you saw their eyes crinkle with a grin. Was it honestly that strange to see Bucky converse with someone?  
“Have you been given a mission yet? Or another assignment?” Another shake of his head. “Then what are you going to do in the meantime?”  
“I'll tell you what he's going to do,” a med interjected, tossing a medium-sized envelope at you. “He will be staying at your apartment until he's been given a mission.” The two of you looked over at the interloper, who looked to be in total disagreement with what he had just said. “There's some money for food and other expenses. We just lost Captain America... again... and now he has the Black Widow teamed up with him.”  
“So double trouble?”  
“I don't know why you of all people are being trusted with the Winter Soldier, but there you go. We'll call him if we need him. And we will need him.”  
You nodded and rolled your eyes in Bucky's direction as you slipped the bills in your purse. There was no telling when Bucky's tune-up would be complete, so you sat next to him and played a game on your phone. Every now and again Bucky would glance over to see what you were doing. You tilted your phone to show you were just playing Scrabble. 

Soon enough the engineers had finished and Bucky could move freely.   
“Let's go home,” you said, gathering up your things. Bucky was half-way putting on his shirt when you took the opportunity to stare at his abs. Lovely. But you couldn't keep doing that. Bucky was your patient.   
Bucky grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over your shoulder, confused as to why you were so very concentrated on the concrete floor.   
“Are we leaving?” he asked, getting in step behind you.   
You jumped at that and nodded, trying to hide your flushed face. “Yeah yeah... come on, let's go.”

Bucky didn't want to walk at your side, more comfortable with coming up at the rear for the walk back. You didn't know, but Bucky was giving you a small berth so he could keep a look out for agents. He wasn't sure that your changing Pierce's mind was permanent, or actually successful. Surely you would be taken away, followed by him.   
You didn't know that. You thought Bucky just didn't want to be next to you since the last walk the both of you had, you thought you had talked his ear off and he was avoiding that. Every now and again, you glanced back to make sure Bucky was still behind you. He was, hands in his pockets. And every time you looked, he would give you a certain look that silently asked if you were alright. You were.  
To strangers, it must have been odd to see such a tall, imposing man walking in step behind you. Not that you struck a weak figure, but it appeared as though Bucky was your bodyguard. If a guy looked at you, his eyes flickered straight behind you, and then he picked up speed. It was funny the first few times, but soon you had to throw a look behind you at the perpetually serious face of Bucky.  
“Are you scaring people or something?” you asked.  
“Probably.” His eyebrows furrowed as you shifted your position to walk in time with him.   
“Maybe intimidating is the better word,” you hummed. “But when you popped into my kitchen a few nights ago, you looked pretty cool.”  
Bucky didn't say anything, but he did stay at your side. You tended to wander a bit during your walk, whether it was to pet a dog or read a poster on a streetlamp. However, to your surprise, Bucky - who knew exactly where your apartment was and could get there and wait for you while you took forever doing whatever it was you did besides get from point A to point B - mimicked your actions. You kept in a giggle as Bucky bent down to scratch a dog behind the ears. Then again, you weren't sure who would be able to deny petting a puppy, even a top-secret government spy-assassin.

Soon enough you two were home, a great relief, and you said as much when you locked the door after Bucky stepped in.  
“Always good to be home,” you said cheerily, tossing your purse on an open chair. You glanced over at Bucky sighing, jaw set. Maybe he didn't like to be in a small apartment. Remembering the med assistant from earlier in the day mentioning that Bucky would be your problem until the next assignment, you considered that he perhaps felt antsy. He certainly wasn't your prisoner here, but you did have to keep an eye on him. Thankfully, he didn't feel like the type to snap and set fire to your belongings.  
“Are you hungry?” you asked, checking the fridge. It was nearly barren. “Shit... I have to pick up some things...”  
“You don't have food?”  
“No, you dolt, you ate it all!”  
“Did I?”   
“It's not your fault,” you sighed. “Pierce said to buy a lot of food and I didn't.” You pulled out the envelope of cash from your purse. “Look, if you want to join me, we can go to the supermarket down the street and get a lot of stuff. If you prefer to stay here and get some sleep, by all means, be my guest.”  
It wasn't meant to be a difficult decision. You certainly would have taken sleep if you had the choice, but Bucky was torn. It had been a long time since he had a bed as comfy as yours, but he relished being outside without a mission.   
“Hey.” Bucky looked over to see you giving him a brilliant smile. “Why don't you sleep on it?” You took him by the hand and led him to your bedroom. “You woke up early to do exercises, right? So you should take a nap.”   
Bucky glanced at your hand in his, but didn't let go. Not quite yet. You were a puzzle in his mind that needed to be worked out.   
He did, however, trust you.  
“Okay. Be safe,” he said.  
“Promise. Won't be more than a half-hour.” You let go of Bucky's hand and grabbed your purse again. “I have some juice if you're thirsty!” you said over your shoulder as you headed out. “I'll knock three times before I get back!” you added with a chuckle. 

Bucky waited until he heard the lock click before sitting on your bed. Why did Pierce follow your advice and let him stay out of cryo? By everything he could remember and all his instincts that were firing, he should be asleep right now. But he wasn't.   
He slowly stripped off his clothes, keeping his eyes on his duffel bag near the door. He had all he needed in there in case you came back with an enemy. Or if you didn't come back at all. There was a small twinge of fear at that thought. Surely that wouldn't happen. You were working for HYDRA, which was still unknown to SHIELD agents. If they tried to stop you or grab you unexpectedly, Pierce would bail you out. That much he was thankful for.   
Glancing over at some movement out the corner of his eye, Bucky saw his reflection. It was odd, sometimes, knowing you existed and what you could do, but not know your name or your past. He had so little. There was a memory that was unlocked not even twenty-four hours ago and blurred faces in the back of his mind. His human hand touched the deep scarring on his left shoulder where his metal arm had merged with him. He had full control over it, but he wished he had a real one. He could wear short sleeve shirts in public without being noticed. He could not worry about malfunctions. He could feel your body against his and hold you with two arms...

He blinked at that last thought and quickly crawled under the covers. That was enough thinking about that. You were his doctor and you were merely showing him kindness. He couldn't let himself mistake it for anything else. He could try to stop caring about you in a purely physical way, but in every other way, he was going to keep worrying about you.   
Through nothing more than sheer will power not to think about you, Bucky closed his eyes and did manage to fall asleep.


	10. Steak and Strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some affection for you people savoring the slow burn.

After roughly an hour, Bucky woke to a silent apartment. Your voice echoed in his mind, “I won't be more than a half-hour...” He slid out of bed and put an ear to the bedroom door. There wasn't a sound. Nothing from the bathroom, no footsteps... you took your phone with you too.

“She was taken,” he muttered, getting dressed in his field uniform. “She was taken or robbed... have to find her.” He checked his gun for ammo level: full. He was about to pull on a shirt and boots when he heard the apartment door open. There was no knock. You promised to knock three times, didn't you?   
That was your voice that announced you were back with an apology for being late, but there could have easily been four armed men right behind you, threatening you to act normal. Bucky did the next logical thing and hid behind the door frame. Surely you would open it to check on him.

You didn't disappoint.   
“Hello?”  
He must have woken up by now with your announcement, you figured. You set the groceries on the counter. It was a decent haul. SHIELD must not have known how much to give you. There was easily $4000 in that envelope. That was enough to set Bucky up for weeks with you. Maybe he was staying with you longer than you planned. The thought made you happy and you went off to get your patient.  
There weren't many rooms in your apartment, so you turned to check if he was in the bathroom. 

You caught him out the corner of your eye and gasped as you saw the barrel of a gun pointed squarely in your face.   
Just as you opened your mouth in protest (though you seriously doubted you would be able to make a sound), Bucky eyes flickered to the door, which you took as a sign to close it.  
“Is there anyone else here?” he whispered. You shook your head furiously. “Will there be?” You shook your head again. That didn't seem to be good enough for Bucky, and soon you found yourself in his grip. His metal arm was quickly latched across your middle, gun pressed against your temple. “Are you lying to me? Is HYDRA out there?”  
“N-no,” you stammered, wondering what the hell HYDRA was. “I'm sorry I took so long,” you murmured, wincing as the arm squeezed your ribs. He grabbed you with such a force that bruises were inevitable. “I needed to do some more errands... I forgot to knock too, three times, like I promised...”  
“You were gone for twice as long as you promised.”  
“Please let me go... please?”   
“Can I trust you?”  
“Yes, yes you can trust me! I'm your doctor!” you gasped. You were losing patience. The plea to stop hurting you might fall on deaf ears considering he had a gun pointed at you, a very new experience for you in any circumstance, and metal on skin was doing you no favors. It was unyielding, much like the taut muscles of Bucky's chest, contoured along your back. In your struggles, you noticed that your feet weren't touching the ground. “Your arm is hurting me, please stop...” Your voice came out as strained.  
Slowly, Bucky let you go, staring at you as you rubbed your sides. “I was... I was nervous there would be an ambush,” he explained as you grumbled your way to the kitchen. He followed you, gun still in his hands. You'd give him this: he must have believed you because he didn't make a move to scope out the perimeter while your eyes were on him.  
“Well, luckily I made it back safe.” You gave him an irritated look as you started to separate your purchases. You wished he would go back to your room and put on a shirt. “The little brown package is for you.”  
“Me? What is it?”  
“It's why I was late.”  
Bucky placed the gun on the counter before quietly opening the paper package. Inside was a golden key with a small engraving.   
Home.  
“This is the key to here?” he asked.  
“Yeah. I figured if you had to leave, you wouldn't have to find me to get back in. It took a while for a copy to get made. I also figured you'd sleep right through me coming back, so I was wrong on that count. Do you want chicken or steak?”  
Bucky didn't like your clipped tones, and subconsciously he bit his lip in worry. Usually he didn't care whether or not someone was angry with him. People who were in the sights of his gun were that, or at least near frightened to death. You were different. You were the exception to his rule.  
“Um... whichever is easiest.”  
“Steak it is.”

Bucky glanced over at your freezer as you started prepping dinner, putting several pots and pans on the stovetop. Every now and again you rubbed your sides. He supposed that he did squeeze a bit hard. In his defense, you were less likely to make a sound if you were firmly in his hold and more likely to tell the truth with a gun. Still, he didn't mean to harm you.   
You noticed Bucky going toward the freezer, but you didn't pay him any mind. Everything in there, unless he wanted some ice cream, was pretty much inedible in its current state. If he wanted to be curious, you would let him.   
After washing your hands, you were about to dry them when your shirt lifted up on your right side. A split second later found Bucky squatted on the floor, lightly pressing an ice pack to the growing bruises on your torso.  
“You're a doctor,” he said, interrupting what was sure to have been the beginning to a lecture about surprises. “You should have been icing this immediately.”  
“I need both hands to cook,” you muttered, wishing Bucky had wrapped the ice pack in a towel. The cold hurt almost as bad as the contusions. “I would do it after...”   
He licked his lips once and readjusted the pack, trying to cover as much area as possible.  
“Then cook and I'll hold it.”  
You felt Bucky's other hand, his metal one, be placed on your hip to keep you in place. For as cold as the ice was, you felt very hot at the attention you were receiving. You had to step over to the other side of the counter to get a knife, and you thought Bucky would stay on his knees and just move with you. He did the latter. It seemed that he didn't want to stay low to the ground forever.   
You fought to keep your hand from shaking while cutting strawberries as Bucky held you. Well, the barest definition of held. He had one hand icing your side and the other keeping you from sidling away from his treatment. That wasn't too bad. What was bad - for you - was Bucky without a shirt standing a hair's breadth behind you. Every now and again you could feel his breath on your ear. You were halfway to heaven and he was barely touching you. What you wouldn't give to get inside Bucky's head to see if he knew exactly what he was doing.

In Bucky's case, he was acutely aware that you were shaking and that your body was very warm. He chocked that up to you being frightened of what he did and his close proximity now. Too bad for you, he wasn't going to move until both sides were iced. Fear of him or not, he knew what he was doing and you would have to get used to that.   
He switched sides of the pack when you put the steaks in a frying pan, his human hand on your other hip. Your body really was warm and your hip was rounded and lovely. He couldn't feel that with his other hand. Bucky then remembered what he had wished for earlier, what he could do with two real arms. It dully hit him that you were in a lovers-like embrace, him watching you cook and taking care of you. As much as that realization made him want to separate from you immediately, he stayed. Even if liking you physically was dangerous, he still liked it. 

Then you turned around with a hunk of strawberry in your fingers. “They're good. Here.”  
Was it a peace offering? You weren't upset with him anymore? He took that as a yes and ate it straight from your fingers. The tinge of red that spread across your already pink cheeks, to Bucky, meant that he shouldn't have used his mouth. His lips touched the tips of your digits.   
He swallowed and muttered out a small “thank you” before checking if the ice pack was covering your bruises. You smiled wide at that before flipping the steak to check for doneness.  
“You can sit down at the counter now,” you said softly, turning the stove off. “Thank you for taking care of me.”  
Bucky lingered at your side for a bit longer before depositing the ice pack back in your freezer. You watched him move to sit as you plated. What you didn't watch was Bucky silently moving the stool at his right an inch closer to him. 

Being next to Bucky outside of check-ups and physicals tended to make you nervous at times. You weren't scared, but your heart certainly started to race around him when he showed softer sides. His touch made your face go hot. You never denied that you were attracted to him, but you would never have thought that those feelings would be heading into lust territory. And yet they were. Unfortunately, you guessed that Bucky would object to you climbing on his lap and kissing him with all the passion and lust you had been building up for so long, even before you met him. So you stayed in your seat and ate. Besides that, you were his doctor. There were lines not meant to be crossed.

Bucky had taken seconds, so you got up to do some preliminary washing. You needed distance after that. It seemed like you were closer to him physically than you thought you would be, but Bucky didn't seem to mind, so you didn't either. The plate of strawberries in front of him were untouched, making you frown. He had one a little while ago. Was he full? You would gladly finish them off. You sat back down to watch Bucky start to eat the fruit.  
“Were you waiting for me?” you asked, looking over at him.   
His eyes, that beautiful blue, contained the smallest sparkle. It was gone just as soon as it came. “You should have some.”  
You shared the plate in relative silence. Bucky picked up the last piece, noticing you had just finished your own. You were gazing at him with a small smile playing on your features. And then he did something you can't say you expected. The half of strawberry was placed near your mouth, Bucky looking at you expectantly. 

Delicately as you could, you leaned forward and bit down onto the fruit. Your lips made contact with his fingertips. Your eyes flickered up to Bucky, and you recognized the embers in his gaze. He licked his lips as you sat back up in your seat. You weren't quite sure what was going to happen next, and you couldn't deny that when Bucky started staring at your lips you had never felt more turned on in your life. It was the atmosphere of a dimly lit room, late at night, and a shirtless Bucky looking very ready to kiss you. You absentmindedly rubbed your sides.

That must have broken Bucky's concentration on the manner in which to most quickly and effectively bed you, because he left his reverie sharply and stood.   
“I need to shower,” he said mutedly, before heading off.   
As soon as a closed bathroom door separated the both of you, muffled grunts sounded from each of your throats, both from sexual frustration, but for different reasons. You wanted Bucky but couldn't go through with it because you were his doctor, but you really wanted him. Bucky couldn't because he had hurt you earlier, but more importantly he couldn't risk binding himself to you anymore. It would just make it worse. And yet, he was drawn to you. He would admit that much to himself.

Bucky left the bathroom after a very satisfying shower to see you half-asleep on the couch. You had already put on a pair of pajamas, he guessed, and buried yourself under several blankets. He wanted to carry you to your bed. He wanted to sleep next to you. Mostly, he wanted to sleep with you, and kiss you, and make you smile, and feed you strawberries.   
But his mind was telling him to be the Winter Solider: cold, unfeeling, separated, focused. So he left you alone and climbed into your bed. He might have a mission tomorrow. That would be something else to think about. Your loveliness was a distraction, but one he can't say he minded having at the end of the day.  
You heard footsteps coming in your direction, but they stopped short and headed away. Did Bucky need something? You didn't want to get up. It was an emotionally exhausting day for you and your sides still hurt. If Bucky was coming to apologize, he didn't really need to. It sure would have been nice though.  
You turned around and tried to find another warm spot. Tomorrow would be better. You hoped.


	11. Like a Walk in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can ya feel the tension - looks like Bucky's finding his humanity. That can only spell trouble.

You were awoken by a metal hand shaking your arm. Of course you were staring at the back of your couch, so your response was to drag the blankets over your head. The shake didn't seem urgent and you didn't want to face Bucky just yet. You spent nearly your entire night dreaming about kissing him, and by kissing, I mean really kissing him. In your sleepiness you wanted to keep that preserved for a little longer. And you fell back asleep.  
Then there was another shake and your name, certainly gentler than you would have expected. It was almost tender.  
You turned at that and rubbed your eyes. Bucky was squatted down next to you. He almost looked like a puppy with the way he was staring at you with wide eyes. So pretty.  
“Hungry?” you asked, your voice husky from just waking up. He shook his head for affirmation. “All right... let me wake up... did you already do your morning stretches and stuff?” Another shake of the head. In a thick haze of a time in the morning you weren't acquainted with, you reached out and ruffled his hair before lumbering your way to the kitchen.  
You looked at a clock and groaned while getting out stuff for breakfast. Why Bucky had woken you at seven in the morning was anyone's guess. If you didn't have work, you would have preferred to sleep in until at least nine. Slowly but surely you woke up, giving Bucky a smile as you put some toast and fruit in front of him at the counter.  
“I have some bacon and eggs if you want it. What do you think?”  
“Aren't you hungry?”  
“Not quite yet. Usually I don't wake up for a few hours. Do you want a bigger breakfast?”  
Bucky had decided as he stared up at the ceiling shortly before midnight that he would try to distance himself from you emotionally and physically. He would stop trying to think about you, so it would hurt less when he was put in cryo and possibly never saw you again. But you had to be so nice and attractive. Damn. Perhaps it would be better to just deal with you as you were... take the good while he could.  
“Yes.”  
As you dug the bacon and eggs out of the fridge, Bucky stared at the stool next to him. It was still quite close from last night. He dragged it a half-inch closer. By God, he knew he would regret it, but you were going to be a part of him. 

While frying up the second breakfast, you muttered to yourself every now and again, enough to get Bucky's interests when his plate was put in front of him.  
“What were you talking about?”  
“Oh just... just...” You waved your hand and started to eat. “Something you might want to do. Walk in the park.”  
Bucky had been itching to go outside ever since the walk back from HQ yesterday. A day outside without a mission was a day worth living for. And he hadn't been informed on a mission yet. Yes, a day out - with you - sounded perfect.  
“Yes.”  
You were sure you heard him wrong. You didn't expect him to want to stay in your apartment all day, but a day out with you? Well, you didn't say that exactly. Better double check.  
“So... I could walk you there and let you wander for a bit?”  
“You'll walk with me.” There wasn't a question in there, or a suggestion. That was a fact that you were supposed to be in touch with.  
“Okay, if you want.” You flicked a piece of bacon over onto Bucky's plate as you stared into space. It was honestly kind of cute, to you, the way Bucky asked you to accompany him. You don't think he would have asked you to go with him even if he wanted to. It wasn't in the Winter Soldier's nature. Honestly, you were just glad that he wanted you around.

You cleaned up around your apartment while Bucky watched. He didn't volunteer to help, nor would you have accepted it. Guests don't help clean. Still, he did seem rather fidgety for the present.  
“If you're looking for something to do, I have a few books you could read,” you offered. You sat down by a bookshelf and started to sift through what you had. A few medical books you needed, romance novels that you found cheap in library sales, classics and new releases, but you didn't know what Bucky would like. Luckily for you, he squatted down right next to you and looked as well.  
“You might like this.” You handed him your copy of The Sun Also Rises.  
Hemingway. Bucky started to thumb through it before nodding at you. He then stood up and walked back over to where he was sitting, and you continued with your chores. It was a short book that could certainly be finished in an afternoon or so. Hell, you might be able to get a nap in before the park walk. That sounded like a dream. And from the way Bucky was glued to your couch and absorbed in the novel, it might actually be in your own bed. 

You read at about a page a minute, so that book in particular would have taken you a whole afternoon. Bucky was finished in two hours. So again he woke you up while you were lying so comfortably on your bedspread.  
Bucky, who looked down at you spread so sensually on the bed with a dreamy look in your eye, nearly dropped his book and pressed himself on top of you to kiss you as he had wanted to do for quite some time.  
But he kept his composure and put the book in your lap. “It was good. Let's go on the walk now.”  
“Eager, are we?” you asked, stretching and standing. “Then let's go.”  
You didn't tell him that he was in need of a shave. He knew that you had a razor and cream ready to go. Maybe he didn't want to chance a new memory coming up. Or maybe he just didn't want to. Whatever the reason, you bit back a comment that he would look better clean-shaven. You guess that he looked good however he was.

Eventually the buildings started to become sparser and the sight of so much green signaled that you and your Winter Soldier had arrived.  
And he didn't look like he knew what to do with himself. Bucky just stood around, hands in his pockets, before settling his eyes on you. You looked back with a half-smile. There were families all around, single people with pets, couples with dogs, small sports teams on the slow hills of grass and even a few picnics here and there. You wouldn't have called it quite hot enough for tanning (actually it was supremely windy), but there were a few people lying on a blanket without shirts or pants.  
You didn't think Bucky would be interested in any of that. Rather than say something or make a suggestion, you merely started walking down your own familiar beaten paths of concrete or asphalt or whatever these winding footpaths were made of. Back when you had some free time and needed to clear your head.  
Bucky followed you.  
“I'm guessing you don't go outside often. You look kind of awkward,” you noted, glancing at Bucky as you walked along. His hair was flying in his face and he kept bringing it back.  
He cocked an eyebrow at you as you handed him a spare hair band. “Here. You should see where you're going.” Sighing, Bucky tied his hair back and even pouted at the finished result. Though truly he pouted at the brilliant smile you gave him. You weren't supposed to be so pleased with him or thought he looked handsome. He was a world-feared assassin! And he also wasn't supposed to be absolutely pleased that he made you so happy. 

With his newly styled hair, you and Bucky continued along. Once in awhile, there would be women - and some men! - that would glance over at your patient. You of course knew that you would have stared as well, and you had no right for your wave of irritation, but you had the urge to hold Bucky's hand to show that he was yours. Then again, you didn't want to risk him shaking you off him. Embarrassing. Maybe Bucky had only looked at you so sensually the previous night because you were just a woman and he hadn't kissed one or slept with one in years. That knocked you down a bit. Well, he certainly wouldn't take advantage of you, that was for sure, you decided firmly. And you wouldn't do the same if it turned out he did care about you and wanted you somewhat. But that resolve was quite weak. It had been awhile since you'd been laid too.  
“So how did you like the book?” you asked, noticing the period of silence between the both of you was getting a bit long.  
“I liked it.” Bucky actually truly identified with the loss of optimism and the ex-soldiers of an old war. He was still one himself, carrying on grudges and bearing the cross of being a machine. He felt run down too, like the characters. His spot of light was you. “I think I read it before though.”  
“When?” you asked. “What are you favorite books? Authors?”  
The two of you stopped on the sidewalk and he looked down at you, your smile flashing at him as he liked. You were... odd. He already reconciled that you were nice for the sake of being nice with zero ulterior motives. But with not being emotionally closed off came the consequences, which was his preference to you. 

You were his flame while he was the moth. Brilliant, glowing, you provided warmth and light in his life. He was drawn to you and well aware of the dangers, but damn it if he couldn't help it. He wanted to hold you in his arms for a bit. 

And soon came his opportunity. Just as he was about to open his mouth to reply, a group of skateboarders zoomed toward you. You had your back turned awaiting Bucky's reply to your question, so you didn't see them coming. You actually did hear them, but thought they had the good sense to not run over strangers.  
You were wrong. Those young men were playing chicken with innocent bystanders, laughing when they dove out of the way in a panic.  
Bucky anticipated they wouldn't stop with you, and made a quick series of decisions. One: to hold you in his arms and drag you out of the way. Two: to target the largest member. Three: to make his life hell for almost hitting you.  
With a quick move of his leg, Bucky swept the feet of a burly skateboarder, causing him to fall not only on the hard pavement, but also knock over his cohorts like a ball to pins. Down they all came in a mangled heap. The bystanders either laughed or gave Bucky a thankful grin.  
You were enjoying the sensation of being rescued (not in the heroic sense, you knew, but in a courteous one) and held tightly in Bucky's non-metal arm. You hazarded a glance up to see Bucky looking like this was a mission, so serious was he. When the battered skateboarder came over to - at least in his mind - confront and beat the shit out of whoever dared ruin his fun, he stopped short. He didn't fight people who could fight back, and from the look of Bucky, that was a definite outcome.  
“We were just messing around. We weren't going to hit your girlfriend, man,” he muttered.  
“Bullshit,” Bucky replied, looking down at the skateboard near his foot. “But I'm feeling forgiving today. Get out of my sight in ten seconds and I won't snap that thing in two.”  
“My board?!”  
“No, your spine.”  
You noted that Bucky didn't correct the man of your relation to him and that he reined in his anger. That surprised you. Just yesterday he put a gun to your head because he thought that you were lying about HYDRA - whatever that was - being in the apartment. A threat of a broken spine, you mused, was restrained in Bucky's case.  
Bucky gave a half a smirk when the kids ran off toward safer grounds. But now a lot more attention was on the both of you. And he still hadn't let you go yet.  
“Are you okay?” he instead asked when there was some distance between the pair of you and the hooligans.  
“Yeah, I'm fine. You can let go of me if you want,” you said quietly, hoping he didn't quite want to. 

He didn't, and he also didn't acknowledge what you had said just then. The both of you walked for awhile before Bucky cleared his throat.  
“F. Scott Fitzgerald. I... I like... I think I like F. Scott Fitzgerald...”  
At that, you smiled softly and continued onward, Bucky's arm comfortably around your waist. 

It was a start.


	12. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next couple make this fic for mature readers... so all of you can stay. For mature readers? _You know what that means..._

He was going to seduce you.

Bucky had decided that when he walked home with you. He needed to be with you, even if it was just for one night. He had wanted you, in his mind, ages upon ages. The looming threat of death or cryo hung over his head. Not being with you as much as he had been recently would be unbearable.

Just one time would be sufficient, he thought. Glancing over at you as you flipped a page in your book, he sighed. He had been staring into space for a good hour now while you sat next to him on the couch, engrossed in your novel. You hadn't even asked him what he was thinking about, just accepted that he wanted to think. After dinner thought was pretty common in your life, after all. Bucky was, to you, the same, so you didn't bother him.

He knew you liked him. Your affections toward him went beyond friendly. The blushes you gave if you saw him without a shirt and the glances downward if he stared at you for too long were telling. A sign that he wanted you badly was just the push you needed to break doctor code and sleep with your patient. 

Bucky didn't have the old skills of a charmer anymore, not the emotion it took to woo a girl off her feet. He doubted if he ever had those, but he had an inkling they existed deep down. You made him feel it. So he would have to go straight body language, as direct as possible.

“I'm taking a shower,” he said, looking over at you.  
Your eyes flickered over the top of your book, then back down. “I'll alert the media.”

Good, you didn't suspect anything. With that, Bucky took a hot shower for prep. You, on the other hand, continued to read. Once you heard the water turn off, you stood up and stretched, not minding a soak in the tub yourself.  
The door opened, but you didn't hear footsteps head to your bedroom. Instead, they walked toward you. What did Bucky want? He knew where his spare clothes were.

You turned and dropped the book you were holding.  
His muscles glistened from the water dripping down his body. A perfect core, nary a scar on him. Naked except for a towel snug around his hips. You could tell from the outline that his legs were muscular, and one of your weaknesses was a pair of perfect legs, or more specific perfect thighs. He looked at you, and you couldn't mistake that look in his eye. He was hungry for you. You were about to say something, comment on the situation, but any word you could conjure up died in your throat.  
A jolt ran through your system as Bucky put a hand on the towel, tugged it from his body, and dropped it. He certainly was gifted in more than one way. You found yourself staring at his member, already looking half-hard. Your gaze shot back up to his face. Absolutely smoldering. And then he started to step toward you.

There wasn't much room to back up, and you found yourself asking why you were, instead of jumping forward, latching your arms and legs around Bucky and climbing him like a tree. You supposed that in the flight or fight mode, this situation made you so eager that you had to back away from it to collect yourself. Perhaps give thanks to God. But Bucky gave you no time for that.  
Your ass hit the wall and you looked up as Bucky shortened the gap between the two of you. He cradled your jaw in his hands and lowered his head. You felt the slightest sigh of breath hit your lips before he kissed you. There was a moment of hesitation before the kiss turned hard, passionate. 

In your dreams you had kissed Bucky. And not to flatter yourself, but you prided your ability of being a very good kisser in reality. So you kissed him back just as hard, just as tantalizingly as he could.  
Feeling you responding quickly, Bucky stepped up his own game, letting his instincts take over all control. His thumb pulled slightly on your chin, opening your mouth to him. You felt his tongue enter your mouth and play with yours. He was taking his time, enjoying the feel of your pulse race and your arms circle around his body. Who cared if your clothes were getting wet?  
He coaxed your tongue out of your mouth enough to where he could suck on it gently. The groan that escaped your lips signaled that your legs were about to give way. Bucky took notice and pinned you to the wall with his pelvis. When started grinding on you in small circles, you wondered how the Winter Soldier had gotten this good at foreplay. Was Bucky the ladies’ man in the 40s that you thought he was, stemming from looks alone? You found yourself throbbing, the pure lust pulsing out from you and guiding your hands up and down Bucky's back.

Several thoughts raced through your mind as Bucky pressed his pelvis into yours with each long kiss. He wanted you. You wanted him just as much. It had been ages since you had last gotten laid. This was professionally wrong. You didn't care. The bed was really close. You were wearing way too many clothes.

“B-bed… bed now,” you muttered out when Bucky moved his lips to your neck. He suckled on the crook, his human hand traveling down to your breast. Your shirt had rather thin material, now soaked from Bucky's body. Your nipple was sticking straight out and he had barely touched you there. His fingers lightly danced around the one protruding, toying with it, playing fast and slow like he was with kisses on your neck.  
You could have sworn you saw a smirk as Bucky moved to your ear. His tongue delved inside it before you heard him whisper, “I've wanted you so fucking _bad_.”  
The low, husky register in his voice told you that he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer just standing there. You started to walk toward your bedroom, but Bucky picked you up and carried you instead.

You were no sooner placed on the bed then your clothes were off your body. 

Bucky stared at your naked form and licked his lips, two arms bracing his body above yours. Not wanting to be stared at for too long, you raised yourself up and kissed him. He was taken by surprise, just a bit, before kissing you back. His plan was seduce you, but he hadn't expected you to be so eager about it. Shy yes, reserved maybe, but not touching him everywhere and grabbing his-

“You're huge... absolutely stunning,” you whispered, licking his collarbone.  
Maybe this wasn't something he'd be able to do just once. Bucky groaned quietly before bending down to put his mouth to your breast. He was fueled by your strained mewls as he licked the underside of each one before attaching to a nipple, rolling the free one between his fingers. There were a million thoughts of what to do next in Bucky's brain, but his instincts kept going strong, and he did whatever he thought was natural. His lips came back up to yours as he started to massage your sex. One, two, three fingers in said you were ready. 

Bucky found himself exceptionally relieved that you weren't a virgin. He set his hips below yours and thrust forward. A gasp escaped from your lips before Bucky's mouth cut it off. And the kisses wouldn't stop. Even after you moved your head to the side to take a breath, Bucky was at your neck. He was eager to nip at it after hearing you groan when he did it earlier. You didn't disappoint, and you weren't disappointed in what was happening either. It felt like Bucky was turning your entire body into one big erogenous zone.

You didn't know how long this would go on. Bucky was a super soldier and, from what you had read out of his files, had a large amount of stamina. You certainly didn't want the tryst to end quickly, but three hours later Bucky didn't even seem tired. What surprised you was that you were keeping up with him.  
The pair of you moved all over the bed in different positions - legs up, on your side, on your forearms, on your knees, on your back, on top of him. You had already come quite a few times and didn't know if you could push your body for any longer. But it was heaven to try.  
A misguided roll sent you halfway off the bed, hands supporting your body as Bucky's thrusts pushed you down, down to the floor, him following... not that it stopped him or you. Soon you two were sprawled out on the ground, Bucky's hips still slamming into yours. The new surface certainly did signal that it was time to call it a night. Your chest heaved up and down as Bucky grunted something in Russian and came hard.  
Then he collapsed right next to you, spent. None of you attempted to move for quite some time.

“Holy... shit,” you rasped, throat thoroughly parched and sweat dripping down your body. It was easily the best sex you ever had. Way better than any boyfriend and it sure beat stress sex during crunch time either in med school or the Christmas rushes at the hospital.  
Bucky turned to look at you. He looked so vulnerable with his eyes clouded from his own orgasm.  
“I didn't... I didn't plan on it being so long...” He sounded so sheepish when he said it that you couldn't help but smile.  
“It was a compliment... you're a fantastic lover.” 

You sighed and waited until your legs were ready to support you body. Bucky continued to lie on the floor as you wobbled and left the bedroom to get some water. You didn't know if Bucky needed it, but it wouldn't hurt. You'd probably chug it anyway if he turned it down. On the way you made a stop in the bathroom to try and feel a little less sticky and sweaty everywhere.  
In there, you took a look at yourself in the mirror. Bucky left his mark in a few places. You liked to have love marks, and guessing from your moans, your lover took notice and was especially generous. The bruises on your midsection from days prior were already looking well, but the new bruises might last a bit longer. Thanks to his super soldier serum, you doubted the marks you left on Bucky would last through the night. A blush appeared on your cheeks as you remembered him groaning with satisfaction when you nipped his neck. You felt eager to go at it again, despite a definite tenderness from a long drought.

When you returned, Bucky was on the bed. You didn't seem to follow him into there quickly enough for his tastes. He had an unshakable feeling that you should stay with him.  
A voice murmured, “Don't leave tonight.”  
Your head jerked up at that. It hadn't really run through your mind to sleep on the couch tonight. Granted that had been your routine since Bucky had come to stay, but you weren't about to be kicked out of your bed after being in it for a solid three hours. Still, you were flattered that Bucky wanted you near him.  
The excessive fucking left you very tired, and it hit you not long after you stretched out. Bucky watched you move around before he put his head to a pillow and closed his eyes. 

There, he had done it. He had bedded you. He got it out of his system and could now focus on other things, knowing that there was nothing more to regret in his relationship with you. But it turned out those other things happened to be you. Making love only made him that much more attached. Being frozen or killed now only made him more fearful of the future. He didn't want to sever this bond with you.  
Bucky looked down to see you fast asleep, arm across his chest, head in the crook of his body. You looked so content and at ease, and he was too. He remembered when you had first touched him weeks before, a comforting hand on his back. He flinched. Now you two had bedded each other and were sleeping together.  
Bucky marveled at the effect you had on him, but still shivered at the thought of losing you.

Of not remembering you anymore.

*****************

You had woken up to the delightful sensation of kisses to your shoulder. There was an arm around your waist and fingers caressing your stomach in small circles. Huh, Bucky was a cuddler. Who'd have guessed?  
You glanced at a clock on the wall that read six in the morning. That was even earlier than yesterday, and you held in a groan. Though kisses were a wonderful way to wake up, it was still too early for it.  
“Morning,” you whispered, turning to Bucky. He gazed into your eyes for a long while, mutely, and then kissed you. He moved slower in the morning. It was tender, like real lovers in a real relationship. You returned them lazily until his lips moved from yours.  
The covers were kicked off from last night, leaving your body bare. Perfect. Every half-inch down, there was a kiss placed. When he got past your breasts (and he spent a deliciously long amount of time paying attention to those), he licked a line down to your stomach. It tingled all the down, his body keeping your legs apart.

Then he bent his head.

He wouldn't...

He would.

No one ever pleasured you like that. Not in the morning, not at night. Not even your single long-term boyfriend. You squirmed and gasped and tried very hard not to squeeze Bucky's head between your thighs as he went down on you. Hands caressed your waist, legs and hips as Bucky continued his ministrations with his tongue, lips and teeth. Another gasp came when Bucky grazed your clit. In a breathy plea you almost called out his name when two fingers entered you. You thought that he was good before, you knew now that no other lover would come close to Sgt. James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes.  
You saw stars after you came, and when your vision had come to, Bucky was kneeling in front of your entrance, swollen cock ready to go. You gave him a nod and put your head back down, psyching yourself up a replay for what happened the previous night. Five more hours of sleep and a breakfast was needed for that. But you'd manage for any piece of that again.

Instead, what surprised you was Bucky cradling you in his arms as he pushed himself inside you. It must have shown on your face because he was kissing you so reassuringly and softly that you would have thought that there were two Buckys. But no, there was only one and he wanted - needed - to show you more of what he was capable of.  
As for his gentle, slow style now, Bucky was feeling selfish from last night. By selfish, there happened to be a small knot of guilt in him that said you should have had a far more pleasurable experience, even if you did enjoy it.  
Your hip bones ground against his while his stomach, flat and hard, slid against yours, soft and filled with butterflies. Now, he would thrust slow, kiss you - there really was no other word for it - lovingly, and whisper things into your ear, his head held close to yours thanks to your arms wrapped around his neck. What tumbled out of his mouth without a second thought were lovely promises and sweet nothings.  
“I need you... you feel perfect... you are beautiful... we should run away together... just you and me... I _need_ you...”

When you had come with a muffled cry into his neck, he released as well. You managed to fall back sleep after pressing a precious number of kisses onto Bucky's chest.  
Bucky held you gently while you slept, but a dull pain in his head was increasing rapidly into something stinging, then burning, then outright stabbing. He fought to keep in a yell or grunt with you in his arms, yet you were disappearing from view, and so was your bedroom.

_“Sweetheart, do you promise to write me during the war?” He couldn't see a face. There was the top of a brunette's head on his chest, a tip of a nose, but not much else._  
 _“Of course I will. Wouldn't dream of anything else.”_  
 _“I love you. And I'll miss you.”_  
 _“I love you too, Marianne. I'll miss you tons.”_  
 _He kissed the top of her head while a feeling of dread settled into his bones._

Soon your bedroom came back into view and the woman in his arms disappeared. It was you again, still sound asleep. Bucky tried to level his breathing out while his mind raced.  
A new memory; this one of another woman. Marianne did not ring a bell. He loved her? What war? Everything in the room looked so old compared to your furniture. What did it mean?  
And why did he get one, a memory? All he did was make love to you. He did that before and nothing happened, and he racked his brain to find out why this time was different. Well, he was gentler, that was indisputable, a feeling deeper than pure lust. That was more or less the only difference.  
So some sort of sex brought back memories? He looked down at you, fast sleep against his side. There was a bond between you and him. So strong it was healing his mind. He couldn't lose that; not now. 


	13. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's about to go into windshield punching mode. But first, one last moment of calm before the storm.

The sex had sent Bucky back off to sleep as well, and he was asleep when you woke up in the -later- morning still wrapped in his arms. You didn't absolutely need to cuddle or spoon after sex, but it seemed Bucky found it essential. You were absolutely sore, not even touching what was going on in your head. 

You and Bucky had fucked, plain and simple. You had fucked quite a bit for one night/early morning. You were his doctor. Bucky was a government spy-assassin. He had little memory of his life because mind wipes were a thing, and so was the cryo threat. You had crossed a line with your SHIELD work, you were sure of it. SHIELD would certainly not be happy if they heard you were sleeping with your patient, their number one weapon.  
At the same time, you had enjoyed it immensely. Much more than you should have. Perhaps some of that enjoyment came from the forbidden factor. Not to mention that Bucky had come on to you with no pretense. At least you two were in the same boat of lust and working in the same organization. Maybe SHIELD would let you stay on with a firm reprimand should they ever find out. Bucky didn't seem like the tattle type and you couldn't see yourself going up to Pierce and saying that you had exhausting intercourse with his asset. 

You could take the professionally wrong actions in stride, but you couldn't figure out why Bucky had initiated anything. From the beginning, he kept himself distanced from you. He would hardly talk to you, he wouldn't touch you unless he had to, and certainly you didn't think kissing was in his nature. But he was so undeniably good at it that it had to be. You guessed it wasn't so wrong if the two of you had equal share of pleasure and want. But did Bucky want you for you, or just for a lay? It would hurt a lot if it was the latter. A part of you, that hopeful naive optimist part, thought that Bucky's sweet nothings did mean something. That he would leave SHIELD to be with you, but that was impossible. There was no way SHIELD would ever allow that to happen. They'd sooner capture, restrain, and mind wipe him.  
Although if you meant nothing more to Bucky than a sexual partner, then you doubted that his arms wouldn't still be around you as he lightly snored. He was too relaxed for that. He was comfortable enough around you to let down his guard.  
And it did make you smile. 

It was ten in the morning before Bucky woke up again. You had already been awake, trying to sort out your thoughts. Seeing as Bucky woke up staring at the back of your head, he didn't know that. To rouse you, or so he thought, he nuzzled your neck and nipped at it. You could get used to having this treatment in the morning.  
“I'm not edible, but I'm probably as hungry as you are,” you yawned, rolling over to face him.  
You wished he would smile for you once. He would look so beautiful. But he didn't. He never did and you accepted that.  
“Can we eat breakfast after?” he whispered, his hands sliding down your back to cup your ass. You steeled yourself as he began to grind against you slowly.  
“No, we aren't going to have sex yet. I need recouping time. I'm not a super soldier, I'm a regular human being,” you replied, though you did give him a kiss. He accepted it and gave you a longer one.  
“How long?”  
“Aren't you hungry?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then we'll eat and I'll tell you when.”  
“Okay.”

For the rest of the morning, Bucky followed you around like a puppy. You cooked and he sat on the floor next to you. You proceeded to sit down to eat and he put you snugly in his lap. You stood in any one place for too long and he deftly lifted up a corner of your shirt and kissed the exposed skin.  
You would have considered him as being a bit needy if it wasn't for the fact that he probably hadn't had sex in seventy-odd years. If you had been in his boots, you'd be the same way. Damn, it felt like you were being worshipped as a sex goddess. As lovely as that was, you simply did not have the super vagina to keep up with Bucky's prowess. However, that didn't mean you weren't up to pushing yourself.

“Okay, what's gotten into you?” you finally asked when Bucky started to kiss and lick at your thighs. Maybe shorts weren't a great idea in his current state. His hands were all over you. As pleasant of a surprise as it was, his constant affections, it was still a surprise. It just all happened so fast for you. Squatting down, you gave Bucky a cocked eyebrow. “You look like a puppy begging for a treat.”  
“It's been a long time since I could do this. I want to do it with you.”  
You sighed as Bucky gathered you into his arms and started peppering kisses into your neck. So you weren't far off with your guess of Bucky's behavior being connected with his celibacy in SHIELD. And he wanted to keep breaking it for as long as he could with you. Your heart continued to race around him so damn it all if you didn't want the same, but considering Captain America was still on the loose, you had to remind him that he could be called on a mission any second. Well... maybe later. The least you could do was text Brock and ask.  
“If you fill up the tub, we could take a bath together,” you whispered in his ear, nibbling it lightly. He stirred at that. “Get started without me. I'll be there in a minute.”  
With that he released you and near jogged to the bathroom. With a chuckle you noted that there was just enough time to send Brock a message.

_Any news on the Cap front? I've never seen someone pace so much._

Best embellish it a little. Bucky seemed to be in no mood to do much else except fuck your brains out. That really was sounding quite good for you, but maybe not for the Winter Soldier and his team.  
Brock's response was immediate.

_Tell the WS that we'll find Cap today. He'll be back in D.C. soon. Sit tight. I'll pick him up when the time comes. B.R._

It was noon. Who knew how long until the mission? At least Bucky would be home after that. If it was successful, maybe you would make some... well, you would have to find out Bucky's favorite dish. Even though the Cap would be captured - a fact that brought you down a bit - that was the goal. If Pierce said it had to be done, that's the way it had to be.  
You heard the water turn off. Two feet from the door and Bucky appeared at the door frame. He was naked already.  
“No sex in there,” you warned. “I'm not about to mop up the floor.”  
“The water's not too hot.”  
“That's great, but it's still a near-full bath,” you replied, passing him and shedding your clothes. “Sex after.”

While in the tub, Bucky caught you staring at his arm while you scrubbed. He didn't like when anyone did that, and even you weren't the exception. Before, when you two started to get to know each other, you didn't study it. Maybe an eye flicker here or there that never escaped him.  
There must have been a way to get you to stop outside of directly telling you to. But there wasn't. He couldn't. He looked at your rib cage, still black and blue in parts, and was reminded that the metal arm did that. Again he thought of how he fucked you last night and wondered if he hurt you. Considering you had eagerly accepted more, it didn't appear to be the case. Yet he quietly resented that he hurt you with that arm.  
“Does it rust?”  
“... What?”  
“Your arm. What's it made out of?”  
“Errr... carbonadium. It doesn't rust and I don't get electrocuted and it's nearly indestructible from what I'm told.”  
Well, at least it was polite interest rather than what was the norm: morbid fascination. Bucky put you on his lap as you examined the arm. You weren't an engineer, but you grew up with them in your family. Machines in compact sizes fascinated you. His arm looked to have interlocking gears designed for supporting heavy objects and providing resistance. The material was carbonadium. If you read correctly from online news articles, Captain America's shield was made from vibranium, and it used all that type of metal on earth to make it and was completely indestructible. Bucky's arm might not beat it in a fight, but it was probably better suited for battle than the shield. At least in your opinion. However, with the mechanisms of the arm, joints might malfunction if a small enough object was wedged between them.  
To be able to do whatever Bucky wanted, it must have been connected to his nerve endings. You didn't think bio-med technology made it quite that far, but then again the government's tech was always twenty years ahead of what's on the market. Tony Stark probably had something like this in his basement. Or had.  
“Your records say that you get this upgraded a lot. So this is the latest model?” you asked, looking over at him. You got a nod in return. He had been staring at you the whole time. “Hmm... I think it was kind of messy putting it on first.” Your fingers traced over his scarred shoulder and chest. “It looks like they tried to fuse it instead of relaying nerves from where your arm was cut... did it hurt?”  
“I... I don't really remember...” 

Bucky sighed and stared off, only coming back when you kissed him on the forehead. “You're changing me,” he stated abruptly, looking up at you. He looked so troubled to say it.  
“How?”  
“I don't know. Umm... I usually just know anger, know confidence. I...” He hesitated. You could sense his muscles tensing against you. “I didn't feel anything else. Now there's relief, and fear, and lust-”  
You lightly scratched the back of his neck. “What about others? Sadness? Happiness?”  
“Yeah. They feel so... foreign to me. Buried deep down.”  
Your poor brainwashed Bucky. You couldn't even say his name. He needed someone and you were that someone. He would never tell anyone from SHIELD about this. You felt privileged.  
“Fear? You feel fear?”  
“I don't want to lose you. I just got used to you,” he muttered, eyes cast downward.  
“I know.” You chuckled. “This is the longest conversation we've had. We just had to get naked in a tub for it.”

Your eyes widened at what happened next. A smile. A true, genuine smile. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Solider, was smiling at you. You were right when you wondered how much more handsome Bucky would be if he gave you a true toothy grin. His whole face changed. Blue eyes sparkled, his nose scrunched up slightly, and you could have sworn you saw dimples. It made you smile back it was so contagious.  
“We should have tried this sooner.”  
“Oh...” Bucky was a triggering nickname according to SHIELD. But they didn't tell you that you couldn't give him one yourself. “My champion...”  
He continued to smile as his nuzzled your chest. Bucky was right; he was feeling normal. You knew deep down that this wasn't going to last long, and that you were half-lying to him in delaying the reminder of his mission. In your heart of hearts, you still thought it was best to let Bucky be happy. He so rarely was. And you might as well enjoy yourself in the meantime as well. 

“Hey,” you whispered, kissing his temple. He looked up after licking a few water droplets from your throat. “Dry me off and we can go to the couch.”  
He didn't need much more motivation than that, and with you in his arms, lifted you out of the tub and onto the bath rug. Certain areas of your body were dried longer than others, you noticed, and you teased Bucky by doing the same to him. When you bent down to drain the tub, you felt a pinch on your ass before both cheeks were squeezed. You turned with a wild look of abandon on your face and he looked ready to take you on the linoleum floor, but he managed to pick you up and carry you to the couch.  
“Top,” he growled, squeezing your ass again as he sat down. “You'll be on top.”  
There was a certain joy with being in charge, as you could decide the rhythm.  
“We have to move fast,” you whispered, kissing him with urgency. “You never know when you'll have to jump out the door.”  
“Then fuck me.”

You didn't need much more motivation than that. With a firm grip on the back of the couch, you started to move. You rolled, you grinded, you moaned. Bucky soon took a hold of your hips and moved with you. It took mere minutes before you two were nothing but a solid mass of messy kisses and humping middles. Bucky's hand wedged itself between each of your pelvises and pinched and pressed on your clit. You came, him following right after. It was quick as you said it needed to be.  
His hands were back on your ass. He really did like it there apparently, not that his face showed it much. Bucky was already sporting a neutral expression. Oh well. Easy come, easy go.

The two of you laid there until your phone started vibrating on the counter at the other side of the room. You reached for it lazily until Bucky picked you up again and walked with you to the kitchen.  
“What's it say?”  
He knew by now what your work phone looked like. You read it out.

_They've been spotted. Sitwell talked. I'll be there in twenty. B.R._

“Looks like you have to go, huh?” you asked in his arms.  
“I'll be back.”  
“Good. But we'd better get dressed. Don't want Brock seeing us like this.”  
Bucky let you go in such a way that you slid hard and slow down his body. The fire was in his eyes again as you were placed back on the floor. You didn't have time for much else of what he wanted, but you did give him a kiss before running off. Bucky stared after you, enjoying the sight immensely.  
You took your clothes in the bathroom while Bucky got into his uniform. And my, did you love a man in uniform. 

Unfortunately, Bucky was a different man when he was the Winter Soldier. Obviously. However, it was still jarring that fifteen minutes ago, you were fucking him on your couch. Now he was pacing to and fro, waiting for Brock to get him. His mission was coming up fast and you weren't going to be a part of it. With his mask and goggles, he didn't even look much human.  
Finally there was a knock at the door. Bucky near ripped it off its hinges and ran out, Brock looking at his back.  
“So... pacing the whole time?” he finally said, closing it behind him and strutting over to you. He was dressed in combat gear as well, a large gun in his hands. He was using it to scratch his back.  
“There are holes in my nice wood floors, I'm sure,” you replied. At least that wasn't a whole lie. You hated lying, especially to whom you considered friends, but you were worryingly efficient at half-truths.  
“This will be quick. Promise.”  
“Isn't that what you said the last time the Cap was involved?” you teased.  
He smiled back and adjusted his gun. “We didn't have the Winter Soldier, the asset. HYDRA will be victorious.”  
HYDRA... that was what Bucky said. They were, as he feared, followed you back to the apartment. If Brock was HYDRA, then why was Bucky worried?  
“What is HYDRA anyway?”  
Brock gave you a look as if you had sprouted another head.  
“You... you don't know?”  
“No one tells me anything.”  
He sighed. You were right about that. There was such a bubble of secrecy only few people knew the truth. But you had proved yourself. And he genuinely liked you. “HYDRA is the new-world order. We're going to keep everyone safe, even if we have to break a few laws. It's for the greater good.”  
“What about SHIELD? I thought that's what they did.”  
“SHIELD is the reason that the town in the Southwest got destroyed a few years back. It's why New York City got so messed up. It hires ex-Soviet assassins as trustworthy spies. Nick Fury, the head of SHIELD, hired a French mercenary to take a SHIELD ship so he could bring that ex-Soviet on board and steal files. SHIELD is spying on the world and making preemptive strikes that kill innocent people. They could make it like you didn't even exist. They are judge, jury and executioner. HYDRA is going to stop it with so little collateral damage the world will wonder how it got along without us. We-” He pointed at you and himself. “-are HYDRA.”

We. We. We. It sounded an awful lot like propaganda to you. Not that Brock didn't have a point in his little monologue. Governments did awful things under the guise of freedom, liberty and the patriotic way.

“That doesn't sound like something the Captain would support though,” you pointed out.  
“He has information that could stop SHIELD, but he won't give it up. We have to retrieve it. The Winter Soldier is on his way to do that now.”  
You had your own serious doubts that Captain America didn't have a good reason for doing what he was doing, but protesting much more could spell trouble for you. Instead, you focused on something that intrigued you.  
“So... SHIELD can erase people from existence? From databases and from the mortal plane?”  
“If you have the right tech and aim, anyone can do it.”  
“Can you?” You had a look of earnest interest. Brock knew he might have been saying too much, but you were an innocent. He trusted you. Everyone did. If they didn't, you'd be on the hit list going up in two days' time.  
“I do know how, yes, but it's risky. You need a really powerful computer and no witnesses.”  
“That's pretty cool. Like out of a movie...”  
He smiled at you, the tension broke. His worry gone. You were indeed on his side.  
“If a government tells you it's fiction, they probably already have the tech themselves,” he chuckled.  
“Good to know... come on, zap belt, let's get moving.”  
You wish you had a taser stick. Think of how many creeps you could hit in an alleyway! Not that you wanted to be on the other side of one. You could barely take a slap on the back from Brock. Imagine what a pain baby you'd be with that.

Brock made his way to the bridge where a large bit of commotion was occurring. You, however, headed to the bank and patiently waited for the return of Bucky Barnes. 

If you knew what was going to happen, you wouldn't have been in such good spirits.


	14. Wipe Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aww shit...

Everyone in the bank was on edge. Bucky walked in and immediately went to his chair to have his arm worked on. The engineers were muttering about short-circuiting and a hard blow to the elbow joint. You sat at Bucky's side and took vitals. He didn't appear to notice you were there. In fact, no one seemed to notice you were there, so you heard detail upon detail of the mission. 

Sitwell was compromised and thrown into oncoming expressway traffic. He certainly wasn't going to be walking away from that. Each one of the prisoners escaped after they'd been captured - Brock was at fault for that one - and Bucky took a shock from the Black Widow. Tomorrow, apparently, was the big mission and the beginning of HYDRA's reign. It scared the shit out of you.  
Soon you heard that Pierce was walking through. You tried to shake Bucky out of his haze, but nothing worked. He was semi-catatonic. He had to have seen something. This was the look he had when he had a flashback for the first time. But this was worse. Much worse.

“Can you hear me?” you whispered. But you were miles away from him. “You have to wake up.” You were pleading. He started shaking slightly. Your head snapped to the monitor, showing signs of stress and increased blood pressure.   
You knew that you were going to be in the way. Backing up as quick as you could, you barely dodged a frustrated, pained yell and two backhanded fists in either direction. An engineer wasn't so lucky. Guns were then trained on Bucky, something that triggered your ire.  
“Oh, put those down!” you snapped to the guards. “He came out of a recollection. A violent outburst is normal!”  
“And what do you kn-”  
“I'm a doctor. His doctor,” you snarled, jutting your thumb back at Bucky. “And I won't be hearing any of that.”  
Pierce then came through, and you noticed Bucky still was in a daze, despite being out of another.   
“Sir, he's quite unstable right now. Perhaps just fifteen minutes more would suffice.”  
“I need the information now, good doctor,” Pierce said calmly. He then turned to Bucky. “Mission report.” Bucky stayed silent and looked past everyone. Pierce cleared his throat. “Mission report. Now.”  
You held your breath as Pierce took two steps forward, squatted down next to Bucky, and backhanded him hard across the face. Everyone flinched except for Brock. You felt something in you switch to defensive mode for Bucky. You eyed Brock's zapping stick and idly wondered if anyone would stop you from shoving it down Pierce's throat. Then again, you would be shot on sight, so you stayed silent. For now.

“The man... on the bridge,” Bucky whispered. He looked up. “Who was he?”  
Pierce vaguely alluded to the answer before telling Bucky that he was the best that ever happened to HYDRA. A key asset. All these words that meant nothing. Bucky didn't seem to care.  
Then he looked at you for the first time since he walked in. “I knew him.”  
Your heart strings pulled. Probably the only person in the room that still had them. Bucky saw Steve. He remembered Steve. He didn't even know himself, but he knew Steve. And Steve wasn't captured, which meant if Bucky saw him again, there was no guarantee what would happen. 

Lost in your own thoughts, you caught the tail-end of what Pierce said. He was looking directly at you.  
“Prep him.”  
Prep him? “You mean, wipe his memory?”  
“Yes, of course. Do your job, doctor.” He looked at you expectantly. So did everyone in the room.   
“I... I... sir...” You struggled for words, your morality fighting your survival instinct.  
“Doctor?”  
“I can't. He can't go through it. He's already unstable enough. It's not a good idea. It's going to backfire in the worst way,” you pleaded. Your last plea worked. You clung to the hope that this one would too.  
Pierce merely sighed. To his credit, he really did look disappointed. That's why you were confused when he reached into Brock's belt and pulled out the electric baton.   
Then it hit you what was going to happen.  
“Sir, no, please don't...”  
“Don't worry, good doctor. I won't be the one to finish it.”

With a smile, he turned it on. You had nowhere to run. The room held its breath and Bucky was halfway out of his seat when Pierce jabbed the weapon into your middle.  
The pain was unbearable. There was no previous experience in your life to prep you for such excruciation. Your body was on fire, your nerve endings were like knives burrowing themselves into your skin, and you lost total feeling in your legs. Due to this and the fact that it roughly prodded your still-tender bruises, you fell further onto the baton and increased the toll of your punishment. You clenched your eyes and jaw in pain, the torture only lasting a few seconds. It was too short to even scream.

You collapsed to the ground, disoriented and nauseous. Your ears were ringing, there was seven of everyone staring at you, and you couldn't feel much of anything except pain. Breaths came in short bursts, and you certainly felt like screaming then, but even that would have exerted too much effort on your abdomen. There was nothing to grip on, nothing to squeeze except your clothes in a weak attempt to divert your pain. So instead you writhed in pain while Pierce snapped at someone.  
“You sit right back down,” Pierce said sternly. “She was right. Maybe it's not time for your mind wipe.”  
You opened your eyes to see Bucky come into focus a foot from you, crouched down and poised ready to gather you into his arms. However, it was the look on his face that made you start weeping. Panic was as plain as day, his eyes were wide and alert. He saw you were in immense pain. He had failed you. Failed to protect you. And he knew what was coming next.

“Rumlow. Take this back and take her down the hall. He's going to hear her die, and you're going to do it. Strap the Winter Soldier in. Guns on him so he doesn't try anything.”  
As your senses came back, you felt a strong pair of arms pull you into a standing position. The taser was right next to your face. There was a struggle to the side of you, Bucky's grunts heard over the commands of the guards pushing him back. And you couldn't walk right.   
“No, Brock, please,” you whispered. “You can't let them do this to him.”  
“At least he's not going to see it, shh,” he whispered back. He was being gentle with you. A kind gesture before your...

At the thought of your death, you started full on sobbing. You had no shame, no dignity. Your life was about to end by way of electricity overload and pain, and Bucky was going to have to listen.   
You heard him struggle against his bonds and call out your name desperately. Your last word before you were out of sight was the first time you had ever said his name. 

“BUCKY!”

Pierce rolled his eyes. Womanly dramatics. He then turned to Bucky, who was still fighting to free himself and save you.  
“You know, we didn't hire her for her skills, as good as they are... were,” he corrected, pleased he finally had Bucky's attention. “We hired her because we thought a kindly doctor wouldn't cause you to kill so many HYDRA members. We were on the right track, granted, but it seems it worked too well. You got too attached to her, and she to you. The last person to truly care for you. Maybe she even loved you. But what's truly a shame is that if you didn't recognize Rogers, we wouldn't have to wipe your mind. And she would still be alive as well. Don't think of it as your fault though, your mind wipe, but rather as hers. She could have always started from scratch. But look on the bright side. Even though you're going to hear her scream for mercy, for you to save her... well, you'll forget all about it in a few hours.”  
Bucky had gone cold, defiant even. He knew that one day he would be forced to forget you, but this hadn't been how he thought it would go. He couldn't stand to hear you in pain. But he was going to. For who knew how long.

A low hum was heard at the end of the hall. What followed was a piercing shriek so horrendous that the room flinched again. Some paled while others looked at the ground. Pierce kept his eyes on Bucky. The shriek devolved into panting shouts and gasping sobs. Then there was only the low hum. Then silence.  
Bucky's metal hand clenched so tightly around the chair's armrest that it was permanently dented. That's it. You were dead. Subject to HYDRA's torture entirely for his punishment. That's what he deserved for coming too close. For caring. For maybe even loving.

As a wooden bit was put into his mouth, Bucky waited for the release of the mind wipe to rid you from his memory. What would that leave him without? Your smiles, your hugs, your food, your bed, your gentleness, your closeness, your openness... he had kissed you, held you, made love to you.

He started taking deep breaths through his nostrils as he was reclined, his body shaking almost violently in fear. Metal strips came around his biceps and the brain wipe device closed in around his head.   
When it started, he screamed. He screamed for the pain. He screamed for forgetting his name. He screamed as he forgot who the man on the bridge was. He screamed because he felt you being erased from his mind. Your first timid meeting. The first time you had smiled at him. Gave him your bed for the night. When he decided to protect you. When you fed him. When you kissed him. When he woke up next to you. The last thing to go was you calling out his name, followed by your blood-curdling screams of pain and pleas for mercy.

And you were gone.


	15. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader is alive but really badly hurt, the world is about to be taken over by neo-Nazis and Bucky just got re-brainwashed. THIS SUCKS.

“Brock, you can't let them do this to him,” you whispered, sniffling already.  
“At least he's not going to see it, shh...” 

Brock's voice was soothing, but it still didn't stop the dread that gripped you. Your heart rate picked up to the point where you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Your legs wouldn't work, which meant that the majority of your weight was on Brock. He wasn't struggling, but your own struggles did slow him down a bit. He just couldn't stand to see anyone sob as childishly as you were doing.

You cried out for Bucky when you heard him fight his restraints and call for you. He was going to have his mind wiped of your existence and you were going to die. You knew that the mind wipes weren't permanent either. What if he remembered you? He might try to search for you, only to find out that you weren't living. Or worse, he would be treated like a machine again - frozen when he was no longer needed. Where would they put your body? What excuse would they use to anyone that spoke up?

Eventually Brock brought you to a secluded sector of the bank, right near the entrance. Everyone inside would hear, but no one on the outside. After you were dead, it would be a quick trip to the hospital, saying you died from something that wasn't government sanctioned murder.  
You could stand now, but your shoulders were hunched from the pain to come. There was nowhere to run or hide.

Wiping your eyes, you stared at Brock. For someone so happy to oblige any order, he didn't appear to want to start.  
“Please... Brock, please... I don't want to die... I don't want Bucky to be a monster. Please don't do this,” you whispered.   
It seemed to you that he was going through an internal conflict. That gave you no hope though. Pierce seemed just as “troubled” before he hit you first.  
“This is going to hurt a lot... you'll feel it for days, maybe even a few weeks,” he sighed, turning down the power of his weapon just a touch. “You'll learn from pain, we all do. It will make you stronger...”  
Feel what for days? You were supposed to die.  
“I'm going to make it convincing,” he said, looking you dead in the eye. “So you need to scream... and loud, loud enough to echo down to Pierce. I'll sort out the details after.”  
“You're... not going to kill me?”  
“Not today. I'd probably turn the thing on myself if I did. I don't fight guys who can't fight back. Killing you would be like killing a puppy. You're just so... fragile.”  
Honor in HYDRA. As odd as it sounded, it just might save your life. You'd take it.  
“But what about Pierce?” you whispered, relief flooding into your body. “And HYDRA? I can't hide from them!” And then panic set back in. “They know where I live, they know my name, they can access all my information... and they're the government so I can't find protection...” You started to hyperventilate before Brock took you by the shoulders and shook you.  
“Just... trust me, okay?! I have to hurt you now, but I'm not going to kill you. I'll get things sorted.”  
Knowing that they had been silent for too long, Brock didn't waste any time striking you with his taser. Even though the device wasn't calibrated to be as bad as before, you still screamed. You were so sore and in shock over what happened that it actually was worse. Then you thought of Bucky and started to cry again. Brock jabbed you a few more times until unconsciousness took you. Your body just couldn't take any more. You hit the cold concrete and felt numb before blacking out.

 

You woke up in a taxi, your head on Brock's lap. There was no moving to sit up just yet. You couldn't motivate your body to do anything without your head alerting you to the pain. What you needed was a hospital, pain killers and a long rest. Mentally you assessed the damage. 'Hurts like a bitch' certainly did you no favors. Wiggling your fingers and toes, at least you weren't paralyzed. You could feel, but pain was first and foremost. You could hear and see as well, Brock informing the driver that you wouldn't be waking up for awhile.

“She saw a rat, passed out and hit her head on the floor.”  
“Shouldn't you take her to a hospital anyway? If she has a concussion...”  
“She's a doctor, she knows what to do.”  
Brock was covering for you? Why? You had defied HYDRA! 

If you weren't going to be up for quite some time, you stayed quiet until the taxi pulled over to the curb. Brock paid the driver and carried you out of the car like a bride. 

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty, we're at your apartment. The car's gone. Can you walk?”  
“Yeah, I think...”  
Brock was very patient with you as you winced to the elevator. You had felt like throwing up from the many jabs you had taken in the stomach. He checked corners and quickly got you inside your apartment, and then proceeded to carry you to the couch.   
“Brock?” you whispered. He was putting down food and a glass of water on the table beside you. “What's going on? What's... going... _on?_ ”  
“HYDRA thinks you're dead. I'm going to make it so you never existed in our systems. They won't know where to find you.”  
“The government can find anyone,” you muttered, closing your eyes. “I pay taxes.”  
“Yeah, the government says we don't exist.” He bent down next to you and brushed the hair out of your eyes. You opened them and gave him a hard look. “Don't you do that. It's my job to get your death official, so I'll just take the opportunity to fix it. Classify you and hide you. I promised you I would take care of everything.”  
“But why?”  
He sighed. “Because HYDRA exists now to protect people like you. Good people.”  
“Buck-”  
“He doesn't remember you. He's as soulless as the day you met him,” he interrupted. “And you can't see him again. With him, HYDRA isn't too far behind. They'll find you.”  
You paused. “Brock?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Thank you. God, thank you.” And you started crying again. You felt relief, pain, worry and depression. Brock gathered you into a hug before standing.  
“In the next couple of days, you're going to see a better world. I'll lock the door behind me and put the key under the door. You rest and look after yourself.”  
“Please look after Bucky,” you said to his back. “He's not what you want him to be.”  
“I know... that's why he shouldn't be in HYDRA...”

After that strange comment, Brock left you alone. It wasn't long before you fell asleep in an attempt to get rid of the aching. It worked, even though every time you woke up there was a jolt of pain coming from your abdomen. As a doctor, you had to examine it yourself.  
There was a severely ugly welt rising from just above your belly button. It didn't appear to be infected, so you put on some ice and took medication. It was going to be a scar in only God knew what shape. A grim reminder of what you did in the ranks of HYDRA. 

The way Brock was going on, you would just have to keep a close eye on the internet.

And were you ever surprised at the news in the next couple of days.


	16. A Manhunt in D.C.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have entered post-CATWS territory here, so it'll probably all be made non-canon when the next few Marvel movies come out, but I don't care, this is fan-fic. My ff, my rules.

Captain America had saved the day once again. Like you had any doubt.

Sure, nearly half of SHIELD got wiped out thanks to HYDRA's task force - Bucky included - and there was a new huge government scandal that was going to call for many hearings, impeachments, actual convictions, protests and calls for anarchy, but it was better than the alternative. Yes, Captain America stopped a neo-Nazi totalitarian regime from taking place right under the noses of America and the world over. And you were a part of that, a part of HYDRA. Not anymore, but you were.

Coupled with the pain of your exodus from HYDRA, you felt deep guilt. Though you never personally killed anyone, you were a doctor for the people that did. That must not be half of what Bucky was feeling, having been brainwashed to kill so many people. What was the Nuremberg defense? You were just doing your job? Ignorance of the law is no reason to break it? What a piece of shit you were... but at least you sort of redeemed yourself by refusing to wipe Bucky, even if your events amounted to nothing.

Thanks to Wikileaks and Edward Snowden's efforts in Russia, some of those files came into the public sphere. The Winter Soldier's kills, however, were so encrypted that no one normal could get to them. 

The U.S. governors and leaders in military, politics and business who were HYDRA were chewed up and spit out by news stations all over, condemning them for trial without jury. FOX news tried to cover their tracks when it came about that one of their producers was in HYDRA, and MSNBC were laughing before it was discovered that they had the same problem. 

You had stayed holed up in your apartment for a week and a half. No one had come after you, not police or HYDRA, neither SHIELD nor friends. And not Bucky either. You held very little hope that he would remember you, even less that he still had the key to your place. The key to a sanctuary.  
Bucky's clothes and belongings had stayed in their original places. You didn't want to move them. He might still come back. You might find him, but you didn't know where to begin.

Brock texted you to say before the failed operation that he had encrypted your files and hid you. Your name was unsearchable in data banks of HYDRA and he threw off your scent by changing the name of the employed doctor with someone from India. Not even the U.S. government could find you and question you in any way.  
You wouldn't be listed as dead so you could collect a last paycheck and all of your bank processes would function. Besides that, he assured you that you were the least of their problems, living or dead. Bucky couldn't remember you so there was no chance that he would change sides and betray his cause. You couldn't confirm any future doubts because he had destroyed the phone to ensure you couldn't be tracked. He was your only liaison in HYDRA.  
You might still be worried that you would be strangled in your sleep, but Brock was right. It was the Avengers that HYDRA would swear revenge against, not you. 

While in your apartment, you ate very little and worried very much. Your scar was the least of these worries. It looked pretty cool - cosmetic appearance of your lower torso was low on your list of concerns, scar or no - and served as a reminder to stick to your guns and avoid government scams. The pain lessened each day and now it only looked liked a misshapen burn. 

The greatest of your worries was Bucky's condition. He was homeless, there was little doubt about that. If he was smart enough, he probably mugged someone for their clothes to switch out from his field uniform. Food might be difficult to come by, so you had to worry if he was eating as well. You didn't know what he remembered, or if he still knew who he was. He fought with Captain America - one of your friends texted you to let you know that if you were still working at the old hospital, you could be treating the Cap himself! - and left him pretty bruised. To take such a pounding, you figured that he didn't fight back. That might have triggered something, but not enough to make you stop fretting. Bucky was alone, hungry, homeless, and probably very confused. 

You had to find him.

Fuck the minor pain, fuck your worrying, fuck the fear that HYDRA or the government would steal you off the streets. 

You had to find Bucky. If Bucky was indeed homeless, then you would have to talk to the homeless. You took the wad of bills that you still had left over from HYDRA, put on some clothes, and headed out into the many, many streets of D.C.

 

For such a city, the capital of America, full of rich politicians and generous charities, there were many homeless men and women. Most of them, ironically, veterans from fighting America's wars.  
You had always tossed coins to them, treated them if they wound up in hospitals, but you never gave them high denomination bills like you had in your hand. You went into fast food restaurants and bought dozens of menu items to feed them. You needed information, so you figured minor donations would help with that.

The men and women were very grateful, but it took you a solid two months before you got a very solid hint of where Bucky might be.

For that, you had to thank a man who went bug-eyed at the sudden drop in front of him. Inside a bag that had just been in your hands were socks, food, $50, and lotto tickets.  
“Ma'am?”  
“I need information,” you said, dropping pretense. 

After these many weeks, it felt like you had established a homeless network, just like in that show on the BBC. Yes, you learned that many of those homeless men and women knew of a handsome young man, new on the streets. Some said that, yes, he did have long black hair. Others agreed that his eyes were a very pretty blue. All said that he looked like he didn't belong with them. Few were able to confirm his metal arm. 

When you first started, you were polite and sometimes took them out to a cafe to chat and take notes. You learned quite a bit, enough to start to rethink how you lived your life and how callously society would treat those in shabby clothes. Some men and women started to recognize you and would start with updates on where they had seen Bucky: the park, a restaurant, a random corner. You had thanked them and rushed over, disappointed every time. Bucky was every bit the ghost he was now as he was the Winter Soldier.

“Information?” He paused, staring at your face. “I know you... everyone says that you've been handing out shit because you need to find that Bucky guy.”  
“I know I should be doing it out of the charity or the goodness of my heart, and usually I do, but I thought that extra motivation would help. I'm sorry if I insulted or manipulated anyone, but you don't understand.”  
“Why do you want to find him so bad?”  
“Because...” You struggled with telling the truth or the shadow of it. He didn't need to know everything after all. “Because he's an amnesiac and he doesn't remember where I live, so I figure that he's homeless and everyone else has confirmed that. I need to bring him home and help him. I... I..." You pressed forward. "I love him - with all my heart and I need to find him. So if you have any info, please tell me right now, or I'll leave you to enjoy your new stuff and never bother you again.”  


The man stared up at you before examining his new things. He didn't mind the gifts, nor whichever attitude or mindset put them at his feet. Politicians and religious groups always did charity events like this, but once the press was gone, not much remained or continued.  
You were up front about what you wanted. He valued honesty.  


“He spends most of his time at the Smithsonian.”  
The Smithsonian... there was an exhibit on the Howlin' Commandoes, Bucky's old unit! How did you not think of that before?!  
“Do you know if he's there now? How often has he been there?”  
“Couldn't tell you if he's there now, but he goes there every other day it seems. He's lucky admission is free. Thank you for the food.”  
That was a better hint than you had gotten in a fortnight. If Bucky spent most of his time at the Smithsonian at that exhibit, then you could camp out there and just wait. In your elation you threw down $300 more from your HYDRA envelope.  
“Thank you! Oh, thank you so much!”

With that, you ran off. The man who helped you pocketed the extra cash and started to tear into his burgers. In his heart of hearts, he hoped the best for you. It looked like you had been through hell and back trying to find that Bucky guy.


	17. We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Together again...  
> P.S. I don't know if you can get season passes to the Smithsonian. I just wrote it for convenience's sake.

You took a taxi to the Smithsonian. After all your years of living in D.C., you had rarely stepped foot inside. Field trips as a school kid, a few dates, sure? But never of your own volition. You supposed that this wasn't of your own volition either, but who was counting?

Admission to the Smithsonian's Museum of American History was free - lucky for you and your limited budget - and this meant that you had an unlimited number of chances to spot Bucky.  
You headed straight for the Captain America exhibit. Now this fascinated you. It was amazing what the United States government allowed back in the day. Truly a magnificent specimen of manliness as well as patriotism. You marveled at it all, and then remembered that Captain America wasn't the symbol of government so much as he was the symbol of liberty and freedom, which doesn't necessarily go hand-in-hand with the government. 

There were plenty of people there, no doubt wanting to find out more about the man who helped save them from HYDRA in recent memory. Yet no Bucky. He couldn't have changed so much he would be impossible to spot.

Unless you were looking straight past him, he wasn't anywhere to be found. Dejected, you headed home after sitting on a bench near Bucky's memorial wall for several hours.  
Again and again you tried to catch Bucky. Seeing as how you didn't have a job, you could waste an entire day on a bench. The rest of the museum did interest you - you had to discover it to have security guards ask you to stop loitering - and you swore you could have given a guided tour after a while, but you still didn't find him.

It wasn't until a week past your tip that you finally found Bucky Barnes. 

And your heart broke at the sight of him.

He had an actual beard now, unkempt and scraggly. It looked like he mugged someone for his outfit because you saw bloodstains on the sleeves of his jacket. His hat was pulled down low, his face was peaky and he smelled a bit, enough to put off museum-goers. 

He didn't notice you or anyone, so intent he was on the audio of his memorial wall.  
Your champion...

It was time you stepped in, but with what? He didn't remember you, probably wouldn't believe you if you said he did, and you didn't even have a speech planned with all your searching for him.  
While Bucky stared at the wall, you stared at him. Finally working up your courage, you tapped on his arm, his human one.

“Um...”  
He looked down at you. There was no light in his eyes. “Can I help you?” Or emotion in his voice.  
“Yes, you can. I... we know each other. Are you sure you don't remember me?”  
No flicker of realization that you daydreamed about flashed across his face. He just kept staring. “No.”  
“But... just think.” You said your name slowly. “Don't you recognize it?”  
“No.” He grew anxious. He had feared HYDRA would find him. You had to be an agent trying to trick him back into being a weapon again. But he knew who he was now, even if he didn't remember. Bucky Barnes. He was James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes. He didn't know who you were. “You have the wrong guy.”  
“I don't, I know I don't. You're my friend. You said you could trust me once. You have a key with you, a golden one with the word 'home' on it.”  
His eyes widened at that. “How did y-”  
“Because you know me,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes. “Please come home.”  
“I don't have a home,” he gritted out, growing frustrated with you. His metal arm started to tense up, ready to throw you away from him and escape. Only HYDRA would know something like that. His key... he didn't know why he hadn't thrown it away. He didn't know where it went or the significance of 'home', but it made him feel at ease. Like when all of his memories returned, the key would mean something. Right now it symbolized hope for him.

And you knew where it went. So you were either an angel or a devil, and he didn't want to find out.

He wanted to run away, but you kept him there without words. Watching you scribble out something in a notebook, Bucky blinked when a folded up bit of paper was held out in front of him.  
“If you change your mind... and I really hope you reconsider... here's the address for the key.”  
You desperately wanted to kiss him or hug him, or share soft words and hold his hand, but now wasn't the time for that. Bucky would remember you sooner or later, you just knew that.  
Turning to walk away, you gave Bucky one last look. He looked fragile just then, like his entire world view just got shifted. You hoped against hope that it meant Bucky would come home with you, where he belonged.

Bucky stared at your back after he received the note, then fell onto a nearby bench and processed what just happened. You knew he had a key with an inscription of 'home'. Your address on the paper meant that the key had a lock. You seemed nice... and very pretty. And he sensed no lie with you. You knew him. 

It took him a week to decide what to do next. Bucky's mind said that it was a trap, that he would be captured again, losing all he had gained after his encounter with Steve Rogers. His heart said that you were to be trusted.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Bucky went with his heart. After getting directions from his fellow homeless people (why did they look so damned delighted when he described the woman who had found him in the Smithsonian?!), he found your apartment building. Ignoring the looks he got from tenants, he headed up to your door.

When he found it, he started at the number drilled on the wall. Bucky could feel his heart pounding straight out of his chest. This was a huge undertaking. This woman... you said that he trusted you. That this apartment was home. You seemed so innocent and nice. Not a bad bone in your body. 

Shakily, he put the key into the lock. It fit. 

“Just turn the key,” Bucky muttered to himself. “Just turn it...”

Taking several steadying breaths, Bucky heard the locks click. The door opened. Another set of steadying breaths came as he took the key out, stepped in, and closed the door behind him.

He certainly didn't expect what happened next.


	18. Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~ Back together and it feels so good ~~~ but not a full memory and that's not so goooood... ~~~~

You were making dinner later that night when you heard your door unlock. You felt like ducking and hiding before you remembered that no one else had the key to your apartment. It had taken Bucky a full week to decide to drop in and the thought almost terrified you. What if he never could remember you? What if he left again? It was almost too much to bear.

Taking a deep breath, you waited for Bucky to make his way through the entrance hall where you could see him. 

There he was, looking much worse for wear than you had remembered from the Smithsonian. With your better lighting, Bucky looked tired, like he hadn't slept right for weeks. His clothes all had holes and stains. Lastly, he seemed very, very hungry. You didn't care about any of that at the moment.

Without a word of warning, you ran over to Bucky and embraced him. It took him by surprise, but he didn't turn you away. He didn't return the hug, but he didn't turn you away.

“What are you doing?”

To be fair, that was an excellent question. Bucky didn't understand how important this was to you. Hopping back, you felt your face grow warm with your mistake. Now wasn't the time for that. Later.

“Just glad to see you're safe. Come on, I've got dinner on the stove and it's ready. I made a lot by accident, but I suppose that's a good thing.”  
“Food?”  
“A lot. Pull up the stool and I'll give you it.”

Bucky bit his lip and looked the way of the countertop. It was a familiar motion to him, one he couldn't shake. Maybe it was safe here. Food was food.

And it was delicious. He shoveled down plate after plate, and you always obliged him for more. You yourself had one, which was enough. Bucky was the one who needed more. You smiled as Bucky ate. Just like the good ol' days. You were happy at least that much of him hadn't changed. 

A shower would be a good next step. No matter how much you missed him, those clothes were not touching your nice bedspread. 

With each plate, Bucky's pallor seemed to dissipate and some redness entered his cheeks. Ah, the rosiness of life, not of cold. It was a sweet sign. He dug into the fruit plate you put in front of him, not stopping until it was finished. Afterwards, he stared up at you.

“No, I don't have more food ready right now,” you replied to what you thought he would ask. “I'll make more in the morning for breakfast.”  
“I was... going to say thank you,” he muttered, looking back down at the counter.  
Your face went warm. “Oh! Well... you're very welcome.” You looked at the clock. “Just enough time for a bath and shave, you know. It will make you feel better.”  
“I don't want to.”  
“I'm a doctor. You're going to.”

That line of yours made Bucky stare off into space. It was like déjà vu... someone had pulled that line on him... he wracked his brain to remember but couldn't. Another mystery. 

“Fine then.”  
A bath would be better than a shower. Bucky needed to sit and soak. While Bucky put his dishes in the sink, you put out shampoo, soap, clothes and a shaving kit.   
“All right, the tub is filling up. I'll be waiting out here when you're done,” you announced, walking in to your living room to see Bucky washing dishes across the apartment.   
“I'm almost done here...”  
You walked over and put a hand on his arm. “Hey, you don't need to do that. I've got it.”  
Bucky paused before putting down the sponge. He said your full name slowly and turned to you. “I don't know it or remember it. I know you want me to, but I can't.”  
Your face fell, and Bucky felt a twinge of pain at that. He didn't know you, but he already knew he didn't like seeing you upset. Maybe it was just because you were a woman. Maybe more.  
“What do you want me to call you?” you asked. “When you knew me, you wouldn't let me use your real name.”  
He didn't doubt that. Being a super soldier meant all kinds of secrecy. “Bucky. You can call me Bucky.”  
It felt nice to be able to hear it from his own lips. “Bucky, then. Bucky, you can go into the bathroom. The tub is halfway filled.”  
He nodded an assent and headed over.

The water was too warm, but that didn't stop Bucky from groaning with pleasure at the feel of his bath, his first one in a long time. His muscles little by little started to relax. By the time he was finished, there would be nothing but dirty water and suds, he thought. He wouldn't forget the kindness you had showed him, yet apparently he had forgotten you entirely. That was probably due to a mind wipe.

Bucky screwed his eyes shut and tried to recall you, but there was nothing forthcoming. Perhaps it would be that way forever, and that depressed him slightly. You seemed so nice, and he was definitely attracted to you. His heart picked up just a touch whenever he saw your attention on him. A subconscious reaction? He tried to imagine an entire history with you, perhaps a story that extended for years and years...

Were you two friends... colleagues... lovers? He shivered at that guess and continued to wash. There was no way. You didn't act like a lover or a colleague. You weren't trying to be physically affectionate and you didn't act too professional. Honestly, to him, a friend was more than he could ask for. Steve Rogers called him a best friend and he was half-dead as a result. Bucky made a pledge to treat you better as a friend. He wasn't ready to reconcile with Steve just yet.

Bucky watched the water slowly sink down the drain before getting into the nightclothes you had set out for him. Perfectly his size too. Maybe he did used to live here.

His eyes dropped to the shaving kit before staring at his reflection. He did look positively frightful with a beard. A bit of scruff would look nice, but not to this extent. To compensate, he decided to shave the whole thing off and start from scratch. 

He thought he could use a haircut, but all things considered, he looked pretty healthy. After his last fight with Steve, Bucky thought his shoulder would be giving him trouble after its dislocation, but it healed itself almost overnight. 

You were a doctor? It was weird that you weren't at work. He recalled that doctors had overlong shifts, but it was the early evening and you were at your house, apparently for a while considering how much you cooked. 

Bucky felt drowsy after his soak, but after glancing at a clock in your sitting room, it was barely eight. You were putting blankets on the couch and fluffing pillows.  
“Just prepping the couch for tonight,” you said by way of explanation.  
“It looks... comfortable,” Bucky replied, going over to inspect it proper. It had been ages since he had nothing more than a park bench or a raggedy sleeping bag. Anything more sounded wonderful.  
“Not as comfy as the bed, but it'll do.” Then you hopped into it before putting a laptop between your knees. “You can sit with me if you want before you turn in.”  
“When are you going to move then?” he asked, sitting a respectable distance from you.  
“Well... maybe in an hour to brush my teeth... I can move to a chair.” You gestured over to a recliner. “Which would you prefer?”  
Bucky paused. “I guess it doesn't matter.”  
“Do you want a book or something in the meantime?”  
“I'll be fine.” 

While you were doing only God knew what on your laptop (in Bucky's mind anyway - in reality you were doing some research on memory recollection), Bucky stared off into space. Or at least he pretended to. You were too engrossed in your work to notice that Bucky was looking right at you. It was a multi-pronged effort. At one front he was trying to figure you out, as in remember you. Another was Bucky wondering why you were so comfortable with him around. He only remembered doing violent things, yet you were so aloof that he could have been your boyfriend. Again he tried to reason that you were nothing more than a friend. Coincidentally, the third reason for his gaze at you was related to that. He found you to be very, very pretty. Lovely features, lovely body, lovely voice. 

After an hour when you got up to go brush your teeth for bed, you left your laptop on the couch. Bucky figured that you would be back for it when you moved to the bedroom, so he set it on the nearby table.   
You returned to find Bucky spread out on the couch, arms folded behind his head and serene.   
“I put your laptop over there,” Bucky said. “I'm not ready for bed, but you can turn the lights off in here.”  
You looked at him blankly before considering that Bucky didn't remember that he slept in your bedroom while he was here. “Bucky, you don't remember.” At that you bent down. “I sleep on the couch while you stay here. And if you don't move I'll be forced to sit on you. Then again, I do recall that you liked that sort of thing.”  
Bucky's eyes widened. So you two were lovers... or maybe near that. He couldn't believe that you would ever be interested in him like that. “I... did?”   
“Yes. But that's neither here nor there at the moment. The bedroom has a much more comfortable sleeping surface. So hop to it.”

Just the threat of sitting on Bucky made him jump up and scamper away. That made you chuckle. You somehow handled Bucky whipping a towel off and pinning you to a wall naked better. Maybe you did intimidate him a bit. That alone made you laugh out loud. The Winter Soldier... intimidated by you.

Bucky, meanwhile, was staring at the closed bedroom door to where you were sitting on the couch. Was that wisecrack from you nothing more than a joke? It was so hard to tell. Part of him wanted it to be, but another part of him wanted the two of you to have something special like that. Like a relationship. Bucky had little memory of anyone caring for him. Apparently he and Steve Rogers were like brothers, but he didn't recall much of anything. 

Then there was you. Kind, pretty you. He needed to remember you, but he had no idea how. There wasn't a display of you up in the Smithsonian and merely talking with you wasn't going to work.   
He was going to have to use some serious thought. Deep in him were memories of you. He wouldn't be in your apartment if there wasn't.

Maybe time would be his saving grace. With that small bit of hope, he fell into the most comfortable sleep he had ever known.


	19. Picking Up The Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd let Bucky room with me. Even if were just sleeping there. Makes you wonder what he's doing during Marvel movies post:WS without him. I hope he's okay...
> 
> Ms. Cho makes her next cameo appearance.

You didn't bother disturbing Bucky's sleep. Lord knows the last time he had one that was in a bed. You were willing to wager it was the last time he had stepped foot inside your apartment. Instead, you waited until he came out of the room himself. Then you would feed him and escort him to the Smithsonian to look at his display. If he was doing that as often as you thought he was while you two were separated, then there would be no difference while you two were together again. 

When noon hit, you started to fret. Bucky was alive, right? He went to bed rather early in the night. Besides that, your stuff was in there and you wanted to get to it. You didn't want to be in pajamas forever.  
Lightly, you knocked on the door and called out Bucky's name. 

“What?”  
“Are you awake?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Can I come in?”  
“Your apartment.”

With that, you headed inside to see Bucky sitting on top of an already made bed. He seemed to have been up for a while. In fact, he was already into day clothes with his hair tied up. Maybe he had been waiting on you?

“Do you want some breakfast?”  
“Did you eat already?”  
“A little, but I was waiting for you to come out. How... how long have you been awake, Bucky?” you asked, going through your drawers for some clothes.  
“An hour or so. Thanks for the bed.”  
“Oh, my pleasure. But if you're awake, just come find me. I don't like starting too early, but noon is a little late. Lunch hour rush is a bit heinous to navigate through.” You tossed some clothes on the bedspread and looked up at Bucky. “If you want to find your own breakfast while you wait for me, go ahead, but you're going to have to wait a little longer if you want me to cook.”

Bucky watched you carefully as you moved around. You were a little bossy at times, but it seemed to come more from a nurturing perspective than anything. Maybe it was related to being a doctor. He had studied your diplomas with interest. You had graduated with honors and the years were rather close together. You really were smart... but the fact that you were still here meant you didn't have a job. That worried him a bit. So he mentioned it.

“Shouldn't you be at work or something?” he asked, standing.  
You paused and glanced over at him. “Normally I would. When you get your memories back, you're going to learn why I don't have a job at a hospital right now.”  
He shrugged. “Or you could tell me.”  
You bit back a sigh and exhaled through your nose as you went back to getting ready. “HYDRA brought me on as your doctor, so I quit my first job. Now before you get started, I thought it was on the up and up because they gave me information for SHIELD, not HYDRA. If I knew I was going to join a neo-Nazi organization, I would've turned them down. But on the plus side, I met you, and that I don't regret.”  
“So you don't have a job now at all?”  
You sighed again. “No, I don't. I'm going to wait a little longer before I go back to the D.C. hospital. I don't want them getting suspicious. The timing of the fall of SHIELD and HYDRA and me looking for a job? Any moron could point fingers and I very much like not being at Senate hearings.”  
If you didn't have a job and wouldn't have one for a while, Bucky reasoned that the two of you would be spending a lot of time together. That made him feel... at ease.  
“Don't worry about me. I'll fix my own things.”  
“Have fun,” you replied with a smile, closing the door behind him to change. 

As Bucky ate, he put your new tidbits into the puzzle of his mind. So you two were colleagues of some sort. But if he was at your place and you were taking care of him, there had to be more. Definitely friends with your demeanor. But your comment last night still put him off. Lovers. Maybe... if he was lucky.

He found several more things to eat for lunch while he waited for you. Although you seemed to be a guardian, he still wanted to go to the Smithsonian. He didn't find you to be a threat. If you were in fact HYDRA hoping to bring him back into their fold, then you wouldn't have mentioned it at all. 

Bucky didn't think much on it. He felt close to cracking something else about himself and even if you were his former doctor, you weren't going to stop him.  
Not that you were going to stop him. In fact, you surprised him by saying that trip to the Museum of American History was on the chore list for the day and explaining that you were going to run some errands after he was finished with his exhibit. If Bucky was going to be back and living with you all the time, you had to stock up on food. Bucky managed to decimate your refrigerator each day he was staying with you before his last mind wipe. 

“I think we can walk. We're not far from it,” you said, making yourself a sandwich. “If you'd help carry groceries, then I don't have to drive.”  
Bucky nodded and continued to eat. Again, he felt at ease. This was something he had done before. If only he could remember it and not merely sense it.

On the way out of your apartment, Bucky watched you lock the door. Behind him, another one opened. He tensed before the voice of an old woman entered his ears. You flinched. That seemed familiar.

“Oh, he's back! I thought you two had broken up!”  
“Hello, Ms. Cho,” you muttered, turning around. “No, he had just been busy. James is that kind of person. And we're not together.”  
Bucky blinked. Oh yeah... his first name was James.  
“He's not one for talking, is he?” She perused Bucky, looking him up and down. “With a face like that, he doesn't have to, I suppose.”  
“Come on, James,” you muttered, taking his arm and pulling him down the hall.  
“Use condoms!”

Bucky waited until the two of you were in the elevator to cock an eyebrow. “Does that happen often?”  
“You've met her. Of course you don't remember, but trust me when I say that's a blessing.” Your face was warm in embarrassment. “I don't know why I said James instead of Bucky... maybe because Bucky stands out and James doesn't.”  
“I appreciate it. How much shopping are we going to do?”  
“I'll write out the list while you're in the Smithsonian. It'll probably be quite a bit.”

It was a small elevator, so you were a bit closer to Bucky than you wanted to be... at least until he got his memories back. You felt like you would be taking advantage of him a bit if he didn't remember who you were. It didn't seem consensual to you, so you kept a bit of a distance from him.

Bucky, however, was fine with the lack of physical distance between you. He had established in his mind that the two of you had to be close emotionally, even if he didn't remember it. Physically seemed like the next step to helping him gain memories back. And you already hinted that such a thing was common between the two of you, even if you weren't doing it explicitly. If you were waiting for him to make the first move, he considered you to be a good person because of it.

Absentmindedly Bucky took your hand and brought you to his side as a small family scooted into the elevator at the ground floor - rudely without letting the two of you out first - and more or less pushed you and Bucky out. Deliberately he held on to it when you two were outside. You didn't mind. A goal of yours was to get Bucky comfortable enough with you again and he was sure enough of himself to hold your hand without your prompt. More might come later. It may not happen tomorrow, or another week, or perhaps months, but you wanted Bucky to remember just how important you were to him. 

Boyfriend... it seemed like such a childish word to you. Bucky had seen more trouble than any human should, and Bucky wouldn't use the term boyfriend to describe himself, would he? Partner... too professional. Lover... too intimate. Companion? Too Doctor Who. Perhaps there would be no word. Bucky would be yours. And you would be his. Simple as that. 

But you were getting ahead of yourself. There could be another reason Bucky held your hand all the way to the Smithsonian.

Intimacy was part of it, in Bucky's mind. Maybe a memory would come of it. The other was to keep you as close by as possible. A lack of anxiety around you was a good thing. Holding your hand felt right. He wanted to do it and he did. Simple as that.

“I don't know how long I'm going to be,” Bucky warned, finally letting go of your hand. “Could be one hour, could be three.”  
You pointed to a bench. “I'll be right there whenever you come out, Bucky. Promise.”

With a nod, Bucky was gone, hoping to piece back more memories from his past. Memories of you... surely they would come in time.


	20. Relationship Tiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few more chapters left, folks. Thanks for tuning in.

While waiting for Bucky, you did everything from write out a shopping list, to finish a book, to read the paper front to back. Still your champion was in the Smithsonian. Worry about him entered your mind. When you had last seen Bucky staring at his display, he was in a sort of trance. It made you pity him that he couldn't remember much of anything, and anger set in at HYDRA for using him, for hurting him throughout the years. 

As much as you wanted to get up and check on him, you couldn't. You promised you would stay put. Bucky was liable to panic if you did, and you couldn't make him feel like HYDRA had found you or someone had taken you. 

To occupy yourself, you took to people watching. A metal hand on your shoulder an hour later signaled that Bucky had finished. 

“Have a productive afternoon?” you asked, smiling up at him.   
“No. I don't think it's working. Maybe I need to find something else to jog a memory.”  
“We'll think of something, don't worry.” You stood and dug back into your purse. “I have our list. It got to be pretty long, so let's get started.”

You started walking with your arms at your sides, wondering if Bucky would catch back up to you and hold your hand again. He did, lacing his fingers with yours.

Beyond wanting to be close to you and relax his nerves, he wanted to test just how comfortable you would be around him. What Bucky didn't know was just how close you two had gotten, so he had to figure that out for himself. He planned on taking baby steps until he was confident in his limits. Hand-holding... an arm around your middle... what in God's name did couples do? Surely you wouldn't be okay with him kissing you. He caught you trying to hide a smile by biting your lips, so at least he was on the right track that you didn't mind his nearness. But if you had kissed before, wouldn't it mean something more if he had a memory of you before another kiss?

He relished the thought of earning a set of recollections all featuring you. He hoped it would be a good one, no matter what it would entail.

Bucky didn't recall the last time he had been in a grocery store. The place was huge. Rows and rows of nothing but food. Families populated most of these aisles. Preteens who didn't want to be there, teenagers practicing shopping, kids trying to sneak sweets into baskets, and little old ladies staring at tea displays for the best flavors and the best deals. 

He could have anything. You were one of the few that would give him an actual meal with full courses, not just the necessities for keeping a body functioning. 

“If you see something you might like, tell me,” you said, putting two loafs of bread into your half-full cart. You weren't sure if Bucky had favorite foods or a sweet tooth or anything. You did though, and put some chocolates into the cart.  
Every now and again, you noticed Bucky looking around and stepping closer to you.   
“Is something wrong, Bucky?” you asked, digging into your purse for your coupon book. “You're skittish.”  
“There's this group that keeps staring at us and they're following us between aisles... don't look now, they're behind us,” he whispered, gripping your elbow. You froze, dread entering your system. Had HYDRA found you? Were they going to eliminate the two of you in a grocery store? No, possibly worse than that. Kidnap, torture, reprogram Bucky, make him kill you, and then take over the world. Slowly, you tried to play it cool and look around to see where the muscular men were, but you found none.  
Instead you found a trio of young girls, all ogling Bucky with open-mouthed grins. Pure control kept you from busting out laughing, endorphins killing all your pent-up anxiety from only moments before.   
“Obviously,” you started, chuckling at your companion, “you have zero idea how good-looking you really are. Those girls are nothing more than admirers of your face.”  
“Ad-admirers?” Bucky repeated, utterly confused.  
“They're following us because they think you're cute. Guess I'm not intimidating enough to ward them off. Just ignore them... or don't. They're harmless.”  
Bucky turned to stare at them, furrowing his brow as they burst into high giggles before rushing off. That was weird. He turned back around to see you walking down the aisle, taking a jar of tomato sauce off a shelf. Jogging back, he put his hand over yours on the cart handle.   
“Hey, I'll do that. Are we almost done?”  
“We are done,” you explained. “C'mon, let's go to check-out.”

As the two of you were walking back home, Bucky stared at the sky that was threatening to pour buckets over the both of you. He had no umbrella and though he was sure you did, your arms were full. He didn't fancy getting soaked, but at least there would be no fear of a cold. You on the other hand, he would have to take care of you if you caught one. Frankly, imagining it made him quite happy. He could be nurturing... he could.

“We dodged the rain!” you cheered as soon as you two had made it back to the apartment complex. Indeed the rain started to pour down as soon as the entrance door was closed. Up the lift, into the apartment. Oh well, no cold for you.

Bucky watched as you put the groceries away, you giving a long yawn when you finished.  
“Are you tired?” he asked.  
“No... well, rainy weather always makes me a bit tired. Screw it, I'm taking a nap before dinner.” With that, you went to your bedroom and curled up under the covers without another word.   
You were a goddamned puzzle to Bucky, no doubt about that.

Should he join you? You did say that the bed was his as long as he was staying with you. Holding you while you napped... no, not quite at that level of intimacy yet.   
He didn't know quite what to do with himself while you slept. If he knew how to cook he could make you something to wake up to. If he knew he was allowed he could be reading. Writing down memories might be a good idea, but he didn't know where you kept paper and a pen. Looks like you would have to be woken up.

Bucky stepped into your room - you had left the door wide open for that purpose - and looked at you on the bed. You were already asleep. He whispered your name, then said it louder. Nothing. You slept like a log.  
Sighing, he climbed onto the bed and rubbed your arm.   
“Jesus... hnngh?” you muttered, shuddering and rubbing your eyes. “Bucky, what is it?”  
“I want to write down my memories. Do you have some paper and a pen?”  
“Yeah... yeah, hold on a second...”  
You really were very comfortably asleep, but Bucky didn't know where to find anything in your house. If he wanted to wake you up, you really didn't mind.   
You scratched at your head and rolled out of bed, Bucky right behind you. There were spare notebooks in your closet and a cup of pens in the kitchen. 

“How many memories do you have?” you asked, sitting next to Bucky on the kitchen stools. Your head was in your arms as you looked over at him.   
“I'm not sure... I just want to get down some details.” He paused. “What do you know about me?”   
Unfortunately, you didn't have your own copy of Bucky's medical files on hand. Those were still probably with HYDRA and there was no way you were stepping foot near that bank. Of course the vaults were probably cleared out by now. Only someone with great connections could get their hands on it now. There were details that stood out to you: birth year, war record, honors... but he already knew that from his Smithsonian display.   
“I can tell you what kind of person you were back when I was your doctor?”  
“An emotionless monster... what more is there to tell?”  
“That's not true.” You put a hand on his back. “Let's see... you were protective and confident... you didn't like to show it a lot, but you had moments of vulnerability... you were soft-spoken and a quick study. Very calm. You trusted slow, but you did trust me.” You paused to let this information sink in. “You weren't and aren't a monster. Victim, not monster,” you promised, smiling at him. “Even through everything, HYDRA didn't destroy you. You still have a soul, you know. A heart behind your skin.”  
Bucky nodded, satisfied with the answer. However, such praise of his character made him question just how much you interacted with him to glean that. He didn't remember doing anything to you to give that impression. “What are you to me?”  
“A friend, I promise. And it's up to you if you want me in your life or not.”  
“Up to me?”  
“You don't have to stay here if you don't want to. If you want to go out and explore, find your past or Steve Rogers or what have you, then I won't stop you. If you want to live here, I won't stop you either. If you want me to go with you wherever you want to go, then I'll do that. I won't do anything unless you want to... HYDRA controlled your life for over fifty years. It's high time you make the calls.”  
Bucky stared at you after that declaration. He never thought anyone would say that to him. His heart started pounding out of his chest the longer you looked at him with that smile of yours. Your lips... he couldn't tear his eyes away from your lips. A pat on his back jarred him from his preoccupations. 

You gently picked up the journal and handed it to him. “Here… you should probably get started before you lose your train of thought. Mom always said you should do things in the heat of the moment or risk losing the small details.”

You moved to sit on the couch. He probably would have kissed you if you didn't shift. You had the feeling he would have, but resisted. It just didn’t feel like the right time. He might have wanted to at the moment, but he woke you up to write down his thoughts, not kiss you. First things first, right?

He was comfortable, but didn’t seem to remember you at all. Simple things like holding hands came. Bucky didn't need his memories back for hand-holding, for something so innocent. Soon, very soon, you hoped... he would remember you.

You stared off into space while Bucky scribbled in his journal. He didn't stop until you got up to start dinner, and continued to write until food was put in front of him. That looked positive to you. He kept at it until he shuffled into your bedroom wordlessly. 

Your Bucky would be back soon... he just needed some time.


	21. Stay Young, Go Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short breather chapter before the last two chapters of the story. Thanks to EVERYONE who read and commented, gave kudos, or just hits. I have a few chapters written out for the next edition for Reader/Bucky, but there won't be much until Marvel gives me some Bucky info (gives us ALL some Bucky info). Or I just post them and say TO HELL WITH CANON. After that, I should think up another story to add here. I AM a fan of the Nolanverse for Batman. Might do something with Bane...
> 
> And that is one of my favorite Elvis songs.

You didn't know how great the need was, but Bucky needed to touch you. He craved to be near you. There was some great instinct in his bones that closeness to you was essential. The only times he really did want to be alone was writing memories or going to the Smithsonian. However, when he was out of his recollection fog, he was glued to your side. He just couldn't bring himself to do more than hold your hand while he was without memory of you. His failure to pull you close and kiss you a few days ago was evidence of that.

You recalled calling him a puppy a couple months ago, and a fond smile appeared on your lips. As you washed dishes, memories of Bucky flowed through of your mind. There were earbuds in and some of your favorite music going into your ears. Bucky missed a lot of good stuff. Mentally you made a note to start making him listen to certain eras. Motown, the British Invasion, Southern folk... so little time, so much catch-up. A week with Bucky flew by and you realized you hadn't done much modern day education.

Sure Bucky was always near you, but sometimes you didn't notice when you were doing chores. So unbeknownst to you, your Winter Soldier was watching you sway your hips and hold your arms out in front of you. It looked like you were slow-dancing with a ghost. He gathered that you didn't go out often, and certainly not dancing. It was listening to older music when you were cooking that he recalled being quite popular and very happy when he went out dancing. Were you just not the same?

Waltzing over, Bucky quietly said your name. He got no response and resorted to popping out an earbud. 

You looked around with surprise. “I was listening to that... did you need something?”

Bucky was acquainted with your MP3 by now, very impressed with the technology of the modern day that wasn't weaponry. You were pleased that he picked up on everything very quickly. A slapstick comedy scene involving Bucky blowing something up was impossible. Thank fucking Christ. You couldn't deal with that stress.

“You look like you're dancing. Slow-dancing solo.”  
“That is what I'm doing, I suppose. This was a friend of mine's first dance at his wedding. It was when you were frozen, the wedding and the song... it was, erm, Elvis Presley. 'Can't Help Falling In Love With You'. It's a classic.” You felt your face go warm. How embarrassing to be saying this to Bucky. But he didn't seem to notice.  
“What's it sound like?”

Your dishes were done, so you went out to dig out your speaker system. Bucky watched you with interest. Soon Elvis's smooth voice was filling the sitting room of your apartment. You watched Bucky listen to the song, leaning on the arm of your couch, while your legs moved to the flow of the music. Every now and again he would glance at you, but he kept quiet until the song ended.

“It is nice.”  
“I have some Elvis you can borrow,” you offered, heading over to your CD collection. “He's good, but a bunch of other artists are better. 'Best of' albums are great for finding out if you'll like someone or not...” You looked over to see Bucky not moving from his spot, and now quite focused on you. “Come on and look.”  
“You were dancing before, with no one. If you want to dance with someone, you can with me.”  
You paused. “You dance?”  
He nodded. “I... I remembered that I did it quite a bit...” He smiled ruefully. “Apparently I was popular.” Bucky also had the funny feeling that Steve Rogers wasn't. “Why don't you dance?”  
You matched his smile perfectly. “I suppose I'm a wallflower. Always looking.”  
“Looking for what?”  
At that you gave a chuckle. “The, uh... the right partner.”

That line sounded familiar. It sounded like something Steve would say, and it brought an honest smile to Bucky's lips. He could dance with you. He might not remember you, but he could be nice and dance with you.

“Start the song again,” Bucky said softly, walking near you. “Come on over.”  
“You will?” You furrowed your brow at that and frowned. “You want to dance with me?”  
“Come on, I don't bite.” 

Bucky turned on the song himself and put a hand on your hip before taking your hand in his. Slowly, nervously, you put a hand on his chest. Your little finger grazed the metal part of his arm, but Bucky didn't flinch and neither did you. 

It was odd how Bucky had this effect on you. Sometimes he was easy to approach and be near, but then his energy shifted and you couldn't look him in the eye.  
He moved with you, his hand gently squeezing yours as the two of you danced slowly in a circle. The comfort he exuded calmed you down, but the pure sensuality he had made your heart thump out of your rib cage. You waited until Bucky got more comfortable with you for moments like this. Any uneasiness came from being so attracted to him, but not wanting to take advantage of him. There might be some people in the world willing to lie to Bucky, gain his trust, then abuse it. You weren't like that. You couldn't be like that.  
Lightly, you put a cheek against him. His arm moved around to hug you to him, other hand still in yours. It was like Bucky remembered you. He fit you like a puzzle piece. 

Bucky himself felt drawn to you. He felt it, yet couldn't put it into words. God, if a memory was to come up, now would be the time. But nothing did. A part of him grew frustrated at the thought that he would never remember you. Was there nothing worth remembering? That was an impossibility. No one made him feel less on edge than you, at least to his knowledge. 

But what could he do to remember you? Well... he could kiss you. Maybe, he thought, that would jog something. Maybe he couldn’t wait forever. Maybe what he was avoiding was what he needed to do. The song ended right when he imagined pressing his lips to yours. It was the perfect time, you in his embrace. He looked to you and found you smiling so cutely, so pleasantly at him that he thought it was a brilliant idea. He opened his mouth a few times to ask you about it, but nothing came out. 

What did you do? You _giggled_ at him! It was the most charming thing you've ever seen! You didn't know why exactly he was flustered, but he was. He even looked a little red in the cheeks. All the same you gave him a short hug of thanks before retrieving your MP3. 

“Thank you. We should try that again sometime.”  
Bucky paused before nodding. “Yeah, definitely. We should go dancing.”

Oh dear... you were afraid the dance halls of Bucky's day were clubs now, and they were definitely not playing the same music. God, imagine Bucky staring at the floor when 'Turn Down For What' came on. That... was outside your area of expertise. You bit your lip to keep a laugh from escaping. 

You made a mental note to research 30s and 40s popular dance while Bucky sat down on your couch with a book. 

Another day, another tier of intimacy between the two of you. It made you happy that Bucky was growing more at ease. But deep down, you just wished Bucky would remember you. Would that be selfish to want that? Sure you could start from scratch and create new memories, but Bucky wanted to recover memories not just of you, but from his life in general. Nothing came to your mind to help that process move along. So you would wait. It was what Bucky wanted, to work things out himself. And that was what mattered more than anything.


	22. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

Every morning Bucky woke up, he found himself staring at the same line of perfume bottles that lined your dresser/mirror. Then he looked up to stare at his reflection. He looked healthier with each passing day, even able to get full nights of sleep in on occasion. Next would be waking you up, one of his favorite parts of the day. By now he knew how to get his own food, but he liked eating with you.  
The next likely event would be going to the Smithsonian or taking a walk in the park. He liked to be outside as often as possible whereas you couldn't care less. Then dinner, then giving Bucky some 21st century updates, then bed. Rinse, wash, repeat. 

You were a bit frustrated that Bucky hadn't got any memories of you, despite having interacted for so long. And you two had also had copious amounts of sex in a short time frame. Were you really that forgettable? There went your ego. Of course, then you felt extremely guilty for making his problem concern you. After that, you redoubled your efforts to make it seem as though Bucky not remembering you didn’t make your heart ache terribly. 

It had been so long since Bucky first moved back in that he needed more clothes than the three-day set that you had bought for him a while ago, so you took him out shopping as a way to pass the afternoon. 

Bucky was less than pleased with you picking clothes out for him.  
“Really, I have enough,” he muttered, hands continually stuffed in his jacket pockets. “You don't need to buy me clothes.”  
“Three days' worth of clothes is not enough. Imagine if you ruin one on accident? Then you're out a whole chunk of wardrobe!”  
“Can't you just buy some and we can go? I'm bored.”  
You didn't think Bucky to be a whiner, but were you mistaken. Granted he had lived a rather exciting life up until the end of HYDRA, in completely undesirable situations also granted, but shopping was what people did. He would just have to deal with it.  
“I can't help it if I don't want you dressing like shit,” you replied. You picked out an armful of each type of clothing - pants, shirts, socks, shoes, boxers, jackets - and shoved Bucky into a dressing room. “I don't have to see you in them, but they have to fit. I'll be outside waiting. Take your time, Bucky.”

Bucky looked around the small space he was now in. Only a mirror, a small stool and a hopeless amount of clothing to try on. And a small security camera staring him in the face. Great. Just perfect. He muttered to himself and looked at the boxers and pants. He could get those tried on without raising suspicion. If HYDRA were to tap into the security feed, they'd have him in no time flat. So Bucky forwent the many shirts.  
Much to his surprise, everything you tossed in his direction fit. His old clothes... when did you learn his size? Must have been when he remembered you. 

Shrugging, Bucky gathered the clothes back up and found you playing with your phone.  
“I don't want to try on shirts with security cameras,” was the first thing he said to you when you looked up.  
You gave a small start of realization. How callous of you! Of course he wouldn't be comfortable with people staring at his arm. Even if it was security.  
“Then I'll buy them and return them if you don't like anything. Come on, let's go back home, Buck.”

Oh... you were so understanding. Bucky did expect that, but a part of him felt that you would resist. Rather, that you should resist. That's what he knew people did to him. Resisted what he felt comfortable with.  
Why couldn't he remember you?!

Bucky had a stony look on his face that threw off people as you walked through the store and paid for your things. They had seen boyfriends and husbands unhappy to be there, but Bucky looked downright murderous. That's why you were confused at a few looks of pity, which you pointedly ignored.

Bucky's demeanor did make a rather awkward walk back to your apartment. He was also silent when you suggested he try on his clothes while you took a shower. You hadn’t done so the other day having been kept up so long with research and keeping up on medicinal knowledge (keeping out of work wasn’t doing you any favors). Then you could wash what he wanted to keep and get the department store smell out.  
Sighing when you received little response, you headed into the bathroom, leaving Bucky to his own devices.

“Why can't I fucking remember her?” Bucky snapped as soon as he heard the water turn on. “She's so perfect and my fucking brain won't work! I'm remembering everything else! Why not her?!”  
He felt like throwing something, destroying something, smashing anything he could get his hands on, but everything he saw was yours. Grumbling, he tried on all his shirts, not really caring what they looked like. You picked them out and liked them, so as long as you thought it looked nice, it did. Everything fit. Of course it would. 

When the new shirts were in a pile on the floor, Bucky stared at your perfume collection. That would be perfect for throwing... but really obvious that it would be missing. And surely the contents would leave a strong scent. What did it smell like?

“I'll use this,” he muttered, picking up his new dress shirt. Carefully, he picked up one of your bottles, marked Chanel. The smell wasn't too bad, but he couldn't understand why someone would pay any amount of money for it. In fact, he considered as he placed the bottle down, it was giving him a bit of a headache.

He hissed as the pain became worse and his vision started to go fuzzy.

_“So how many push-ups can you do at once, exactly?” Bucky glanced up to see you looking at him with interest. He was in your bedroom, but not near the perfume display. And what were you doing there anyway?_  
 _“I have no idea. I do enough of them, no more,” he replied._  
 _“That's no fun. How many do you think you could do?” You were smiling at him. “Come on, I'll act as extra weight.”_  
 _“Whatever, have at it,” he grumbled, eyeing you as you lay across his back. “Count for me.”_  
 _He did push-ups with your arms secured around his chest in a hug, your voice lightly counting in his ear._

Bucky shook his head as the vision went away. A memory? A memory! He felt like he could cry. Finally, he remembered you! You must have been wearing the Chanel perfume that day.  
Another bottle. 

He grabbed another bottle and a new shirt, hoping there would be a repeat. Another piercing pain arrived, but not as bad as before.

_“I think Pierce is being ridiculous,” you muttered as you peeled fruit. Bucky was staring at you from across the counter in the kitchen. “He's keeping you here when you could be out with the team searching for the prize... as if the Captain's going to lose anyway.”_  
 _“How do you know so much about Captain America?” Bucky asked as you sat down next to him._  
 _“Because he's a national hero. A lot of people know about him. There's a display of him at the Smithsonian.”_  
 _“What's that?”_  
 _“Museum. Eat.”_  
 _Fruit was pushed in front of him, but you tasted it as well. A feeling swelled up in him... he wanted to eat you up too, starting with your lips._

Another bottle.

_You were below him on a large bed, moaning in ecstasy as he slid in and out of you. He could feel you, every inch inside of you. He was being relentless at it too, panting with speed and power. Then you raised yourself and pulled him down to you, fingers laced in his hair, lips crashing into his._  
 _Moonlight poured into the room, so bright that he could see your face, your mouth, your body. He spread your legs and held them there before burying himself in you and gyrating his hips. The sounds that came out of your mouth only made him want you more._  
 _“Oh God!” you gasped as your legs went over his shoulders. He was deeper than ever before, he could feel it._  
 _All his, you were all his and nothing was going to change that. All his._

Bucky had to give himself pause before the next one. So you two did have sex. And you looked to be very into it. Definitely more than friends or colleagues. A pure, short segment of a memory... he was hard. And he grew harder thinking about it, the whole night slowly coming back to him.  
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing himself before picking up another bottle. 

_It was the bank again. A feeling of anxiety was deep set in him, especially when staring at you. You looked nervous too, but acted the complete professional._  
 _“Okay, now I'm going to get your vitals. First, heart rate.” You gently placed a blood pressure cuff on his human arm and put your stethoscope between the cuff and the skin. “Just breathe normal, okay? If you hold your breath it won't be accurate...” Your voice was so even. It calmed him and he slowly inhaled and exhaled._  
 _“Perfect, very perfect. 120/80. Now for eyes, ears and glands.” You were closer now, looking inside his ears and into his eyes. He flinched when your fingers delicately pressed against his jaw and throat, but you didn't say anything to him._  
 _The exam went on as such._

When you two first met. That would explain the anxiety. Bucky forgot about his memory journal and continued with his discoveries. Three bottles down, three to go.

_The two of you were walking through a park. Light filtered through tree branches. You were in a one-armed embrace at his side. You seemed serene. A bright smile wasn't on your face, but a tiny one did play upon your features. You were happy with him. Comfortable. He felt the same himself. His hair felt odd, like it was tied back. He didn't check, but it explained why he only saw you when he turned his head._  
 _On a whim he squeezed your hip. To his surprise your head came to rest against him as the two of you continued to walk._  
 _It was silent, but nothing needed to be said. It was like the two of you were together. A real couple._  
 _It felt like he was happy._

Bucky sighed and looked at the two remaining bottles. The shower was still going and he wondered just how much time he was wasting by reflecting upon each memory. Or how much time was actually spent in a flashback.  
Not knowing how much time he had until you came in and questioned why he was sniffing your perfume collection, Bucky grabbed another bottle.

_He was in the bank again. Everyone was. This wasn't a check-up. He was staring off, the image of Steve Rogers burned into his mind. He barely paid attention to what was happening in front of him. You were there, speaking in his defense. Pierce was trying to do something._  
 _A faint buzz perked his attention. Pierce had a taser in his hands and the room's attention was on you._  
 _No._  
 _Bucky jolted when he saw you getting a firm hit in the gut with the taser. You hardly made a sound and soon collapsed on the floor. He was out of his seat and at your side when he heard Pierce's voice telling him to freeze. But he didn't look at Pierce. His eyes were on you, so in pain and timid and scared, with tears building up and threatening to fall._  
 _For the first time that he could remember, Bucky felt useless._  
 _Suddenly many strong arms pulled him back into his seat. Before Bucky knew what was going to happen, he was strapped in. Too tight. He couldn't break free and save you. He shouted your name and strained against the locks, but it was no use. A short speech from Pierce was followed by your death screams down the hall and out of sight. You yelled his name, but he couldn't save you._  
 _He thought you were dead._

The bedroom slowly came back into vision, but it was still blurry. He blinked and tried to rub his eyes for clarity, but nothing. In fact, it had gotten worse. It quickly dawned on Bucky that he was crying. Openly weeping at the memory that caused him to believe that you were dead. His mind-wipe must have come right after that. The last thing he heard before he was turned back into a monster was you begging for mercy. It was sadistic. It was HYDRA. 

He let a few more tears fall for your sake, along with relief that you were indeed alive and that memory was really no more than a bad dream.  
One more bottle. Maybe one more memory. A happy one. All these mixed emotions made him feel a bit light-headed, but Bucky persevered. You were worth it.

_You two were outside again. He was at your side, but not touching you or holding you like he did in a previous few memories. Instead he was politely listening to you talk about this and that._   
_“I think someone's having a wedding!” you cooed, looking around as you walked. You paused so suddenly that Bucky was a good four feet in front of you before he noticed anything. Walking back to you, he saw you stare across the busy street, hands clasped together, at a bride and groom on the steeple of a church. They were all smiles as their wedding party applauded them._   
_Bucky couldn't understand the sentiment, but didn't say anything. You looked too dreamy to be brought down._   
_“Oh... another good man gone,” you sighed, walking again. Bucky followed._   
_“Another what?”_   
_“Another good man gone. It's what my mom used to say whenever she saw a wedding take place.”_   
_“Do you want to get married?”_   
_“Oh...” A blush appeared on your cheeks. “Maybe someday. Have to find the right man first. I think it would be lovely to be married.”_   
_“Why?”_   
_“Why? Well... I suppose being around someone you love for the rest of your life sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me. A friend and love 'til death do you part.”_   
_Bucky shrugged and continued to walk with you. So you wanted to get married? He knew he couldn't fit the bill. What he was, the life he led... but a part of him stung when he thought of you with someone else. He rather liked being with you._

Coming out of his last stupor, Bucky put down the perfume bottle and shook his head. Perhaps he overdid it. In his hunger for memories, he overestimated what his brain could handle. Sure, the memories hurt less and less with each new scent, but now he felt a sort of numbness come over him. 

He made contact with your bedroom floor faster than what he would have liked and blacked out.

Of course, you had just come out of the shower when you heard a heavy -thunk- come out of your bedroom. In your desire to let Bucky have some alone time, you went off to the bathroom without a change of clothes. Without a roommate, you were happy to walk around in the nude, but that was rude for guests. Bucky was still a guest, one that you were always worrying over.

So dressed in nothing but a towel and only worry on your mind for Bucky, you rushed in.


	23. I Remember You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a doctor at a prestigious hospital in Washington D.C. Very successful, as you always had been when you were younger, you were coming up on your thirties when New York got hit with an alien attack. This led to many, many overtime hours seeing patients in and out. You were even thrown in the back of an ambulance a few times just to help out. Of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, HYDRA showed up at your hospital and offered you a position as caretaker of some tactical unit and a prized assassin within their ranks. You were, however, told that it was SHIELD and a world-class spy. If you knew it was a neo-Nazi organization, you probably - no, definitely - would have said no.  
> Too bad. You were thrown headlong into life in the government. And headlong into the life of James "Bucky" Barnes. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great Christmas (or whatever you celebrate) and so long, thanks for all the fish.

In the space between your bed and your dresser, you saw nothing but a pair of legs. Not moving.

“Bucky!” you cried out. You ran over and knelt down beside him. Considering the snug space due to the furniture and room dimensions, you were half on top of him. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing. No broken bones, no bleeding head. 

Taking a deep breath, you gently shook him. It seemed that he was just unconscious, fainted.

“Bucky, sweetheart, can you hear me?” you whispered, bent over. You cradled his head in your hands. What happened? You were confused at first, but now you were frightened. “Please wake up. You're scaring me...”

At your soft voice, Bucky stirred. His eyes fluttered open. You figured he must have hit his head pretty hard because he was smiling at you with such relief and tenderness that it took you aback. 

It was his turn to whisper, and you heard your full name leave his lips. 

“Bucky?”  
“I remember you,” he said. “I do... I remember you...” His arms came up and pulled you down onto his chest. “I found you... I found you and I'm never letting you go...”

There was no breaking away from Bucky's hug, and you didn't want to. Instead, you started smiling. Bucky gained back his memory of you. He broke through HYDRA's clutch. He could feel again, think again, and hopefully live again. 

It wasn't long before you felt Bucky's chest heave and shudder against yours. You looked up to see tears roll down his cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, don't cry, Bucky. It's okay,” you cajoled, wiping his tears with your thumbs. “Like you said, I'm right here and you're not letting me go.” Several kisses were pressed into your still damp hair before he reclined back against the ground.

The two of you lay together for a long time, content to hold each other and absorb the situation. 

“What did you call me?” he asked, sitting up. He hadn't let you go. “In the tub, on that last day.”  
“Oh...” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. “It's what you are. You fight every day and you win against all odds. My champion.”

Perhaps it was because he remembered you. Or that you were wrapped up in a towel that was being gently coaxed open by your position. Or that your lips were right in front of his. Or perhaps even a mixture of all the above.

But he put a hand on the back of your head and brought your lips to his. An arm crushed your torso to his. Your arms brought him closer still, the kiss more intimate yet still tender. Bucky broke away only to get a good look at you. His eyes flickered over your features, savoring them. He wasn't going to forget you again. Then he mulled over your answer.

He was your champion?   
You were wrong of course. At least to Bucky. He wasn't your champion. He didn't deserve that. You did. You were his champion. 

He recalled what his mind conjured up, what you and he had done... in this very bedroom. The bed was near, very near.   
“Hey... did we...?”  
“Yes?” you hummed, trying to tug your towel up a bit. His hand overlapped yours.  
“I didn't dream that? We... um... made love?”  
“If that's what you want to refer to it as, yes.” Looking up at Bucky, you changed tactics and gently pulled your towel down. His eyes popped out at your exposed breasts before drifting back up to your face. “I missed you in more than one way, but I didn't want to force anything until you wanted to.”  
“I wanted to. So much. I wanted to get you in bed. But I wanted to remember you first. So it... wouldn't be with a stranger.” His arms slid down, pulling the thin towel along with them. “And now I have, so... I was wondering... hoping...” He sighed heavily and put his lips to your neck, any sort of charm or sweetness of words foreign to him. But you filled in the blanks.  
“Sweetheart, it would be my pleasure,” you murmured. The two of you stood, your towel slipping off completely. Bucky could only stare, but managed to strip while you slowly walked around to the bed.

You lay on your side, head propped up by your hand as you watched him. Bucky's breathing turned shallow when gazing after you. Your eyes were lidded, hand on your hip. Your air invited him closer, as close as he wanted. Needed. 

Taking slow, deliberate steps, Bucky climbed on top of the bedclothes to join you. His metal arm snaked around your middle while his human arm cradled the back of your head. He felt every inch of your front pressed against his. You were warm. Some places warmer than others. Vowing to pay special attention to your most intimate area later, Bucky showered you with kisses. Your name tumbled freely from his mouth when that part of him wasn't touching your skin. 

In that moment, the two of you were equals. As comfortable with each other as was possible, as free from outside forces as ever before. 

You raised your leg and laid it on Bucky's hip and ground your pelvis against his. His kisses were interrupted when strained groan rose out of his throat, which you then doted upon with your own ministrations. You liked to do that, make Bucky lose his focus.   
“Touch me,” you whispered, nibbling at the long column of his neck. 

He obeyed, but not quickly. Oh no, he took his time, first slowly rolling you to your other side so his human arm was free. Bucky's callused finger tips then traveled down your front, squeezing a breast along the way. He could feel your heart beat. It was fast, and it was for him. His digits then brushed against the scar on your stomach. The scar Pierce caused. Was he dead? The news said he was. That gave Bucky some comfort, but he was still sorry you had to go through such pain. If he could, he would bring Pierce back from the dead and kill the old man again himself. Wasn't Brock still alive, just barely, but alive? He contributed to your pain. He was next.

But he didn't linger on that. Tonight was about connecting again. He watched your face change and body shiver with heady delight when he found the small mound of flesh near the entrance of your sex.   
“I mean it,” Bucky said, his fingers pleasuring you so. “You're going to be the only one I'm ever like this with. I'm never letting you go.”  
“Oh Bucky,” you breathed, closing your eyes as he kissed your shoulder.   
One thrust later and Bucky gave you the most languid lay you ever had, and surely the most romantic. You two were together. For how long did Bucky want that?

Forever was a long time. Bucky had seen decades upon decades pass him by while you were coming up on your third. Again you thought of how you would label the two of you. Boyfriend and girlfriend? Still not quite right, too immature. People like you and Bucky didn't have boyfriends or girlfriends. Not anymore. It seemed like a flippant term. Lovers? Not in the pure sexual sense, but my, were you two both passionate creatures. You needed something else... but did you? 

It seemed like you were right the first time. You needn't worry yourself with labels.  
Bucky was yours. You were his. Simple as that.

Even after all he had been through, all the torture, the horrors and working his way back from the void to remember you and gain all sorts of memories back, Bucky still liked to cuddle. Quietly, unbeknownst to you, he was experiencing a recollection from his childhood. Old, very old. 

He was a kid running around in a concrete jungle with some scrappy lads his own age. From the look of fashion it had to be the twenties. It was so different up until now. Looking around New York or any other city now, it was rare to see a kid without a parent or some sort of guardian. At least the ones that had them. Homeless children broke his heart, what was left of it after getting off HYDRA's grid, and he often gave them whatever food he could scrounge up. He could go awhile without food. Kids? Not so much. All things considered, he was glad to have parents growing up, even if he couldn't remember them very well. Of course, he didn't even know if he had any family alive at all.

But now he had you. And it was a bit of comfort that went a long way.

He sat up, cross-legged at your side while you lay flat on your back. Looking down at you, he gave a brilliant, toothy smile. You returned it. God, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. And you were his. 

With a hand on his calf, you whispered, “Bucky?”  
“Yes, honey?”  
“Remember a little bit ago when I said you were free to live where you wanted if you went to find your past? And I kind of implied that I would go wherever you needed me to?”  
“Yes, I do.”  
“That... that offer is still on the table. I want to help you more.”  
“Well, you're still my doctor. And it's not like I'm moving away from here.”  
He saw you visibly sag in relief before putting his hand - the flesh and blood hand - over yours. At that you frowned, of all things.  
“Bucky?”  
“Yes, honey?”  
“Why don't you ever hold my hand with your other arm?”  
His smile melted away, apprehension replacing it. “It's not... I can't...”  
You rolled over on your side and rested a cheek on his knee. “I'm not scared of it. I adore every part of you. Even your arm.” His metal hand was in his lap. Slowly you slid your hand toward his, overlapping it.   
“I didn't think you were,” Bucky replied. He kept his metal hand under yours. His human hand brushed your fringe. “It's just that this hand... the one you're holding... it's cold. I can't feel you with it. I held guns... broken things. It's not for hand-holding.”  
“It could be.”

He held his metal hand up and laced his fingers together with yours. 

“I wish I had my arm back. I don't have nerves. I sense there's something here if I close my eyes, but I don't feel...” He brought up his human hand and clasped yours. You merely watched, letting Bucky speak. “I don't feel warmth. Your pulse. Each individual bone.” He bit his lip. “It's not that I wouldn't want to. I just don't see the point of doing something if I'm not able to experience it the way it's meant to.”  
You sighed and sat up. “Bucky... there are veterans who don't have any limbs. They come back from the war sometimes, literally, as half the man they were. But they rehabilitate and try to live life to its fullest. Especially if they have someone they care about.” So you clasped both of Bucky's hands in yours. “You fought back from HYDRA, not afraid to find me and trust me. Not afraid to hold me. Not thinking that a metal arm will hold you back from giving me what you think I deserve. Because believe me when I say that I do not deserve you. You need someone that didn't know you back in HYDRA. That wasn't in HYDRA.” You sniffled but pressed on. “That didn't participate in keeping you prisoner. That didn't think there wasn't anything really wrong from the very start. That... should have stopped before they got too deep. That's not so _stupid!_ ” 

At that you started crying, all the guilt from your part in Bucky's troubles flooding your systems. It was Bucky's turn to wipe away your tears and comfort you. But how much that stung you! The man that used to be a killing machine for an organization you worked for, that you were too scared of reporting in the first place! You placed your life over that of a man who hadn't had sovereignty over himself in seventy years! 

“I'm so sorry! I knew it was all wrong! I should've done something, but I didn't!”  
“Shh,” Bucky murmured, gathering you into his lap, rocking you gently. “Nothing is your fault. You did care about me. You didn't go through with the mind wipe. You stood up for me when no one else would. Nothing you could've done.”  
“I knew you used to be friends with Steve Rogers! He lives in D.C.! I could have looked for him! He could have done something, but I was so selfish about my own life!” You gripped his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “I put myself above you, and Bucky, I am _never_ going to do that again.”  
He looked around and found a box of tissues on one of your nightstands. “Here.” He reached over to grab one. “Blow your nose, wipe your eyes.”

You did so. “I promise. I'm not.”   
“I know, honey, I know.”  
“I'm going to be better for you... get a job again and give you everything you need.” You said this mostly for your own benefit, but the kiss on your head told you that Bucky appreciated your gesture.   
“But if you get a job, you won't be around as much. I have seventy years to catch up with,” Bucky murmured. It was his turn to be selfish. He wanted you strictly devoted to him. Films, music, history, culture, technology, medicine... he had so much to learn outside weaponry that it nearly made him dizzy. If you were at work, where would that leave him? “Besides, I know that you have a pretty nest egg.”  
“How on earth did you know I have money to spare?” you muttered, tracing his bicep with your finger.  
“I happen to know HYDRA pays people prettily to keep quiet and go about their duty. I assume that you were the same?”  
“Yeah... Brock did some computer work so they won't freeze my assets or target me... I don't know if it's permanent, but yeah, I do have some money saved up. Maybe I could take a sabbatical. Just for a little while...”  
“Honey, how long was it between that day and the Smithsonian?”  
“Um... nine weeks? Maybe ten? Why?”  
“Well... I figure that you owe me a solid ten weeks in bed making up for lost time, and we'll fill in idle spots with me getting caught up with the current century.”  
You laughed at that and wrapped your legs around his torso. He had the smile of the devil on him that you couldn't help falling in love with. “That's a hefty order.”  
“Some people would make the argument that I'm a World War II hero and therefore worth the effort.”  
“And who are these people?”  
“I'm sure you're one of them.” He chuckled at your nod. “You can look for a job, how about, after a couple months?”  
“Deal... keep me in bed, you say?” The two of you fell to the side, wrapped in each other's limbs. “It's a start anyway. I mean we'll need food breaks and we can save on water by showering together. And memory wise, perhaps a trip to New York is a good idea. What do you think, Buck-”

A searing kiss and a roguish grin broke off your stream, and many other words that were not love words.

You and Mr. Barnes. Unlikely friends. More unlikely lovers. Yet it worked. 

And it was just the beginning.


End file.
